


Much Like Falling

by TheBohemian



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dating, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Love, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Rating will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBohemian/pseuds/TheBohemian
Summary: Victor Nikiforov has lost his spark. No one is surprised by him anymore. He's got no time for friends or a life to call his own outside of skating, and though he won't admit it, it's taking a toll. A sinking feeling he refuses to name has made a home in his gut and it threatens to swallow him whole.Yuuri Katsuki has reached the end of his rope. He's lagging behind; he's taking up space and offering the world nothing in return. He's stuck and left with a feeling that no one in the world could possibly relate or even begin to push him out of his rut.A drunken phone call bridges the gap between their worlds and sends them hurdling into one another.Sometimes happiness finds us when we least expect it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm BACK  
> and writing for a different fandom (holy cow I never thought I'd see the day)  
> I appreciate any feedback at all and really hope you enjoy what I have to offer this lovely fandom!

If there was a gold medal to be won for making bad decisions, Victor sincerely doubted he’d have any trouble winning it. His surety didn’t stem from being cocky or arrogant, no, sometimes he was just a real idiot. When given a chance to reflect on what brought him here, there was really only one event that changed everything: befriending Christophe Giacometti. The exact moment they spoke, the Stupidity Olympics began.

They weren’t ending any time soon, either. Not when they were both four shots in, barely dressed, and unsupervised.  
Things tended to start with truth or dare and go downhill from there. This time was no different. For all their unpredictability, they were a rather predictable pair.  
  
“Truth or dare,” Chris prompted, struggling to keep a firm hold on the long neck of a bottle he’d been carelessly tossing back.

Victor studied him with a look that was meant to be analytical but came across just a degree too flirty.

“You know what you need?” Chris asked before even allowing Victor to open his mouth.

“Don’t say to get laid,” Victor surprised himself with his ability to form sentences that meant anything at all. “You always say I need to get laid.”

“And I’m not wrong.” The conversation was put on hold just long enough for Chris to take a swig. “I was going to say a friend.”  
  
Victor shrugged. “No time.”  
  
“To have a life?”  
  
“No.” Victor took the bottle from Chris’s hand and chased any explanation down his throat with its contents. “And dare.”  
  
“You always say dare,” Chris laughed, face pink and hair a wreck.  
  
“I’m a man with no secrets.”  
  
“I bet that’s not true.”  
  
“Too bad I didn’t say truth, huh?”  
  
Chris smirked. “It is too bad. Okay, I dare you...” Emerald eyes scanned the room, and Victor could see steam steadily pouring from his ears as he exerted himself. “I dare you to sing a perfect rendition of What’s New Pussycat.”  
  
Victor nodded and disguised the laugh that escaped him as a disgruntled cough.  
  
“And,” Chris added, “I get to post it to Instagram.”  
  
Snorting, Victor agreed to the terms and conditions. He didn’t have much choice anyway. “It’s a shame the fans only get sixty seconds of this performance.” He stood, dusted the hotel room floor off his rumpled sleeping clothes, and reached for his hair brush to use as a mic.  
  
“I feel like you should owe them a drink if they suffer through all sixty seconds.”  
  
“Ow,” Victor held his free hand to his chest, clutching the fabric until he was white knuckled, “right in the ego.”  
  
In his experience, the gods were kind; this situation was no different. While Victor sang his heart out and included dance moves to make his show just the right amount of ridiculous, Chris laughed loud enough behind the camera to completely drown out every foul note Victor scraped out. People seemed to think Victor was good at everything he did, and when he tried something, he was prone to exceeding expectations.  
  
Singing was never something he would ever claim to be an inkling of good at. Chris saved him from that shame to his own dismay.  
  
“I ruined my own dare,” he pouted, though that didn’t stop him from posting it. Likes poured in and comments piled up within seconds. “You’re getting a lot of heart eye emojis,” Chris informed him. “Do you have any idea how many people have called you ‘Daddy’?”  
  
“I try not to think about it,” Victor folded his legs and fell heavily to the floor. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”  
  
”Dare,” Chris announced boldly because he didn’t know what was good for him. When Victor raised a mischievous eyebrow, Chris mirrored it. “I’m not scared of you.”  
  
“Okay. Go ask our next door neighbor on a date.”  
  
“Now?”  
  
Victor checked the clock. 2 AM. “Now,” he confirmed.  
  
Chris looked down to assess his state of undress which consisted of ill-fitting flannel pants and little else. “I’m gonna get me a man. Or a woman. A person,” he finally settled for.  
  
“Go get ‘em, Tiger.”  
  
Chris didn’t know the meaning of liquid confidence. He was sure of himself even when he wasn’t under the influence, but the alcohol did bolster it a little. It added to the show.  
  
Chest puffed out, chin pointed up, and with hands on hips, Chris sauntered to a door of his choosing and left Victor’s line of sight.  
  
Three loud knocks rattled the cheap paintings that lined the hotel walls and Victor recognized the sound of a door being violently ripped off its hinges.  
  
“From the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Chris started, and Victor could almost see him in his mind’s eye all fluid motions and stuffed full of his own variety of charm, “I knew I had to have you. I say we prepare a date.”  
  
“Fuck off,” came the appropriate response followed by a slamming door.  
  
“Well?” Victor asked through tears as he fought the laughter that bubbled up in him. It tickled his throat and made his cheeks burn from how wide his smile was spread.  
  
“He looked like Yakov.” Chris fell back into his spot and swiped his bottle back from where Victor had sat it. “If he shrunk two feet and gained three hundred pounds.”  
  
“Isn’t that your type?” Victor asked.  
  
“If you catch me when I’m drunk enough.” Chris hiccuped before he continued, “oh and truth or dare?”  
  
“Like you have to ask,” Victor smiled, “dare.”  
  
“I have to ask. It’s part of the _game_ ,” he clarified. “I dare you to cut your hair.”

  
Victor tilted his head, collecting a fistful of locks and bringing them over his shoulder. After studying them briefly, he met Chris’s eyes. “Do you have anything sharp enough?”

  
He watched as Chris’s jaw hit the carpet. “Wait seriously?”

“When have I ever backed down from one of your dares?”

Chris didn’t respond.

If he was going to compete in the Stupidity Olympics, by God he was going to go for gold. “Help me find scissors.”

They both rose and pulled out drawers, checked under beds, and inside the wardrobes. “But your hair is like… it’s your thing,” Chris said as he peered behind a vanity.

“And short hair can be my new thing.” 

When their eyes met, it felt like a challenge and both of them refused to look away. Electricity sparked in the air. They were fiercely competitive in everything. Even in staring contests.

“They probably have some in the lobby,” Victor suggested.

Chris left to retrieve them.

Truth be told, Victor was growing tired of his hair and the stigma that was tied to it. It was too feminine. Flamboyant. He was pretty, never handsome, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t allowed to be both.

He’d been warned many times by Yakov and his parents that it would lose its charm. Eventually, audiences would fail to see the appeal in it. They’d expect it, and critique it, and it would take away from who he was as a person. It would distract from what he was capable of.

He could never stay the same person for too long. Once audiences were tired of his persona, he had to change or watch his career die before his eyes because of his own stubborn nature. The hair had to go.

These Olympics he’d made up in his mind just gave him the push he needed to take the plunge.

Chris burst through the door, chest heaving and scissors held at a dangerous angle as he slammed the door closed. Victor regarded him in wide-eyed confusion.  
“They said I couldn’t have them,” Chris huffed and puffed, “so I snatched them and ran.”

“They’ll make us sleep on the street once they catch you.” Victor paused to consider the possibility. “That could be fun too though.”

“All in the name of the game. Now get to it, Rapunzel.” Chris handed over the scissors. After taking a steadying breath, Victor brought the blades to a fistful of hair and cut straight through. 

Chris helped get the shape right while Victor continued their game. “Truth or dare?”

“Let’s go for truth,” his voice was strained with the focus he was giving Victor’s hair cut. Victor watched their reflections in the nearest window. It could’ve been the drinks talking, but he might have missed his calling as a beautician. With Chris's help, he didn't look half bad.

“Who was your first crush?”

“You,” Chris said without any hesitation. “That was a weak question, Victor.”

“Really?” Victor felt his eyebrows knit together.

“You were every young skater’s first crush,” Victor saw Chris's reflection roll its eyes. “Don’t be modest.”

“I’m always modest.”

“You’re also always full of shit,” Chris laughed from deep inside his chest. “Your dare is to call a random number out of the phone book.”

“I thought you had to ask which one I wanted,” Victor argued with no conviction. “It’s ‘part of the game' if I remember correctly.”

“Changed the rules,” Chris said, falling across the bed to reach for the nightstand that separated them from the other full sized bed. “I found this phone book while looking for the scissors. God gifted me with this idea, so you have to do it.”

“Divine,” Victor took the book and let it fall open between his legs. Currently, they were staying in Japan for training. The scenery was nice, the food was amazing, and the people had been overwhelmingly friendly. The language, though, the language wasn’t giving. “I can’t even read this.”

  
“Hm?” Chris looked over his shoulder. “What if we just dial the country code and some random numbers?”

Seeing no better solution, Victor nodded along.

Chris rattled off numbers with no rhyme or reason until Victor had a full-length phone number glaring at him from his dial pad. “And now you call,” Chris prompted when Victor hesitated.

“What if I wake someone up?”

Chris’s face fell. “I woke up Yakov’s Mini-Me. Ask me how much I care if you wake someone up.”

“Well,” Victor caved, “touché.” 

Once, twice, three times, Victor counted the rings and it was starting to look like he might be in the clear. In the middle of the forth ring, though, Victor’s luck dried up.  
There was a man on the other end of the line, and Victor didn’t understand a single god damn thing he’d just said. Despite not understanding the language, he was certain of one thing: this man had been crying recently if he wasn’t currently. His voice was soft enough to be blown away by a light breeze, and when he spoke something rattled in his chest. Something truly broken.

Suddenly, Victor felt like humanity's worst. He wondered if a “World’s Biggest Asshole” ribbon came with the gold medal he’d just earned. 

“Uh-“ Victor locked eyes with Chris, and Chris seemed ready to hang up the phone. They were intruding on a fragile moment that their drunken joke hadn’t been invited to. Abort. “I- uh. Hello?”

As if a switch had been flipped, the man on the other end changed tongues. “Could I help you?” The stranger’s voice grated against his throat, and his words plummeted straight to the earth as soon as they slipped passed his lips. Victor heard them hit the ground. He was sure they caused earthquakes where they fell. It was impossible to ignore the way the heavy atmosphere snaked its way through the phone line.

Victor, for all his infinite charm and allure, continued to stumbled over his words. The influence of the alcohol threw in some additional slurring and a mushy-brained feeling. Finally, his mouth settled for saying, “no, I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound angry, just tired.

This was his chance, Victor could hang up now and end all of their suffering. Chris, from across the room was cutting his hands through the air and making a motion that looked quite similar to slamming a phone down into a cradle. They weren’t equipped to be therapists, still yet, Victor’s voice betrayed them all. “Are you okay?”  
Stupid question. No one had ever sounded less okay. 

A pregnant pause followed and Victor was beginning to feel like he’d just swallowed glass. The static of radio silence was choking him. “You got the wrong number. I’m sorry, goodnight.”

Chris eyed the empty bed across the room while Victor kept his gazed locked on his call log when the line clicked and silence began to drown them both. 

“I’m starting to get tired,” Chris announced, beginning to collect empty bottles to trash. 

Victor nodded though he barely heard Chris speak.

 

Four in the morning was rapidly coming to a head, yet Victor hadn’t slept a wink. Like a broken record or a residual haunt, he would pull his phone off the night stand, bring up his call history, and hover over the new number there. He wasn’t sure what there was to say. ‘Sorry,’ most definitely. ‘Hope you get to feeling better.’ ‘You sound sad.’ ‘Can I help?’

There was nothing worth saying, so he’d lock his phone only to repeat the process minutes later.

Victor felt nothing but full-fledged panic when, before he could unlock the screen and repeat his new ritual, his phone came to life and a number Victor had all but remembered ran along the screen. His eyes bounced between accept and reject; the reject button was looking more enticing by the second.

His hands betrayed him though, and he punched accept.

“You called me.” There was no sign of tears this time, and Victor instantly felt lighter. Though his voice was fragile, the man on the line still sounded strong. Resolute.  
Victor liked that.

“You called me this time,” Victor said. While the other man sounded soft, Victor mostly just sounded strangled as he struggled to keep his voice below a whisper. He’d never perfected his inside voice. 

“Yes,” the man laughed and the sound was hollow. “I-“ There was a sigh. “Is now a bad time?”

“It’s almost dawn,” Victor said. “It’s my favorite time.”

“You’re tired.”

Victor shrugged with no one to witness it. “It’s been a long night.”

“It has.” Silence fell between them, filled only with the sounds of soft breathing. “I called to apologize,” the stranger continued. 

Victor choked. “What? Apologize for what? I'm the one who needed to apologize to you.”

“I was rude earlier. I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I hung up pretty abruptly. It wasn’t kind.” He stammered over a few more ums and ahs before, finally, he managed to snap his jaw shut. “Sorry,” he repeated. "Sorry."

“What’s your name?” Victor propped himself up and leaned against the headboard. The sun had just peaked over the horizon and flooded the sky in warm pinks that chased away inky purple hues.

“Yuuri. Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri,” he finally took a breath. “Just Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Victor tried it on for size and liked the way it fit around his lips. “Do you always apologize for things that aren’t your fault?”

“I work under the assumption that everything is my fault,” he huffed, and it crackled over the phone line. “And it rarely isn’t.”

“You sound like you’re hard on yourself.”

“No,” Yuuri argued, “you have to be disciplined to be hard on yourself. I’m just kind of hopeless.”

“You are hard on yourself,” Victor said.

Yuuri hummed and it sounded a lot like giving up. Victor frowned.

“Do you have any siblings, Yuuri?”

“Uh? One? Why?”

“I want to get to know you,” Victor explained as if it were obvious, flipping his wrist in the air for good measure. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow.”

“Mine’s blue,” Victor smiled and he felt it somewhere in his soul. “Ocean or mountains?”

“Ocean, you?”

“The ocean feels like home,” Victor agreed. “Are you in school?” 

“I graduated college,” Yuuri said, “do you study anything?”

“Ah, no,” Victor laughed, “I was never a good student. I’ve been informed many times.”

Yuuri sounded like he may be smiling, and Victor felt his heart hammer against his throat. “I can see why,” he jabbed, “you don’t ever stop talking do you? N-not that it’s a bad thing. I like it actually. Not to be weird.” Victor heard a disgruntled groan and the sound of someone falling heavily against blankets. Rustling and then silence. “I’m being weird.”

“I never stop talking,” Victor confirmed. “Weird suits you much better than crying does. Do you have any friends?”

“Huh? I- thank you,” he cleared his throat, “do work friends count?”

“I’ve been reliably informed that work friends do not count.”

“Really?” He scoffed.

“I was shocked too,” Victor shuffled and fell onto his stomach. Their conversation had surpassed the half hour mark, and his stiff joints were unforgiving. 

“In that case, no.”

“Me either!” Victor was ashamed of how prideful he sounded as he announced his lonely status to a stranger over the phone. Yuuri giggled, though, and Victor swore to himself that he’d be the butt of all jokes if he got to hear that again.  
“Are you a dog person or a cat person?” Victor asked. This was the real moment of truth.

“Dogs. All the way.”

“I think I hear wedding bells, Yuuri.”

Yuuri made a disbelieving sound that warped into a yawn; he covered it up with questions. “What’s your favorite planet?”

“Jupiter,” Victor said. It demanded to be seen. For Victor, there was no other option. "Yours?”

“Pluto,” Yuuri said.

“I could’ve guessed that,” Victor whispered. The words slurred. A god-awful mixture of no sleep, drinks, and a rapidly developing crush was getting the best of him. “Lots of people sympathize with it.”

“I don’t sympathize with a rock,” Yuuri argued without sounding convinced. He talked his own self out of his stance in mere seconds. “Okay, yeah. Maybe a little.” 

They went back and forth. No deep or invasive questions entered their conversation. Everything was simple, clean, and kind of freeing. 

An hour passed, and Victor was convinced that no one knew him better than Yuuri. A bit of a sad realization, yes, but it was somehow still elating. 

All good things must end, though, and when their conversation turned more to yawning rather than talking, Yuuri was the one to cut their time together short. 

“I just realized how long I’ve been hogging you to myself,” Yuuri admitted, a little sheepish. Somehow, he still sounded proud. As if it were an accomplishment. As if Victor were something to be won.

Victor would be lying to himself if he said he hated the idea. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri murmured. Drowsiness was pulling him down, and it dragged his voice down a few octaves.

"You and your apologizing,” Victor chided, and Yuuri laughed though it was breathy. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I-“ He paused, “I think I should probably let you go.”

Victor wanted to argue. ‘No,’ and ‘stay’ were the first words to come to mind, but instead he cleared his throat. “I’m glad you called.” There was an unnamed longing there. He wanted to say a million things, but the words wouldn’t come. He thought that maybe Yuuri understood despite his inability to speak. 

Deep breathing was all there was to be heard before Yuuri found his voice. “You called me first,” he laughed, “goodnight, uh,” he sounded ashamed as he said, “I never asked your name.”

“Victor.”

“Victor.” It sounded like magic with the way Yuuri enveloped his name in a smile. “Right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Victor said, and once he was sure the line had died, “fuck.”  
  
Chris snored quietly just across the room, and the clock on the wall ticked rhythmically. Victor counted each tick until he reached a minute and then he’d start over. The world was the same as it was before the phone call, but he was almost positive that his entire universe had just tilted a little to the left.

He felt drunk while sober. His blood had spiked a few degrees and, for some reason, he couldn’t wipe this damn goofy smile off his face.

There was a second where he considered that maybe what he was feeling was love, but he shook off the thought before his brain even had time to even consider it. He wasn't sure he could name whatever he was feeling. But, he coud say with certainty that the world felt lighter. Colors were blinding. Birds sang louder. Waves kissed the shore with more hunger and the sky had exploded with rays of color with more urgency than Victor had ever seen.

He hoped Yuuri noticed it too.

He hoped Yuuri knew he was the reason.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tries very adamantly not to fall head over heels for the boy he only just met.  
> Fails immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update at least once a week!! I hope you guys like the new chapter   
> I wrote it three times  
> whew boy I need to lay down

Victor wasn’t good at sitting still. With sleep nowhere in sight and little else to break his boredom, he perched himself on the windowsill and stared and stared and stared. The picture never changed, but somehow it felt as though he was seeing for the first time.

His eyes couldn’t possibly drink in the sights fast enough, and his pulse hadn’t quite settled back into its normal pace. Occasionally, he’d catch himself stealing glances at his phone where it lay discarded on his bed. He was itching for it to ring, light up, combust, or do literally anything that would give him an excuse to pick it up.

When sitting became underwhelming, he rose and paced. The floor creaked under his feet as he made laps and minutes stretched to form a full hour. When his brain pondered about Yuuri, he shook the thoughts from his mind. _Yuuri wasn’t interested in being your friend_ , Victor reminded himself firmly, _he only wanted to apologize_. He’d done what he called to do. It was done.

And anyway, he’d made rules for himself long ago to maintain his public image and to the stay in his best form. He didn’t have time for friends. There were more important things, and Victor had everything he needed to make life livable. That was that. 

That was that.

 

The rink was abandoned when he arrived. Practice was meant to start at eight that morning and Victor managed to show up just a few minutes shy of 6:30. It was better that way. No distractions, no pressure.

There were times when Victor forgot that he used to skate for fun; it seemed like a foreign concept now. Now, skating was riddled with expectations and scrutinizing gazes. Everything was based on points and advancing and putting on a show. It was so easy to become lost in the lights, glitz, and cheering crowds that loosing himself just became a part of the job.

It was easy to forget to be human.

Now, though, running on little sleep and the pounding in his chest, Victor felt like a live wire. His every nerve was on fire the moment his blades met the ice. Something deep in him screamed to be released; it wasn’t happy. It wasn’t satisfied. Victor smothered the feeling by skating himself breathless. It was his own version of running away except he could only go in circles and never truly escape.

All the while his phone burned a hole in his pocket.

 

Time was lost to Victor. He glided, jumped, and spun until his lungs felt raw and frozen and his legs burned from exertion. A film of sweat had already formed across his brow when the first of the other skaters appeared in small groups.

A chorus of “hi, Victor” filled the rink, resounding off the walls. It muddled Victor’s onslaught of unrelenting thoughts and brought him back to himself.

Victor stood a little straighter, wore a smile that was a hair too wide, and threw his hand in the air with too much gumption. “Hi!”

Tinkling giggles filtered through the air and Victor huffed a laugh of his own once his hand fell back to his side.

_It's a good life_ , Victor thought as if trying to prove a point to himself; _I’m living the best possible life_. His heart was just vacationing from it, and it was becoming harder and harder to believe the lines he fed himself.

Victor shook his head again, hoping maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could rattle his brain and forget this stagnant feeling. Maybe he could find passion again.

Instead, he only gave himself a headache.

He skated on, smile never faltering and mind refusing to let up. 

 

“You’re off today,” Yakov flagged Victor down from the side of the rink. As a coach, the man was incredibly observant, but as the man who had raised Victor since he was 13, Yakov could read him like a book.

Feigning wide-eyed innocence, Victor met him where he stood.

“Wipe that look off your face, Vitya,” Yakov grumbled and Victor found himself laughing. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just a little tired,” Victor admitted. He’d been at this for hours, long before anyone else. His joints and muscles had no issue reminding him, and the heaviness of his eyelids also proved to be a helpful reminder. His persisting headache wasn’t making maintaining wakefulness any easier either.

Yakov’s eyes narrowed. Victor leaned his full weight against the rink wall. Anyone else would shy away from the intensity of Yakov’s stare, yet Victor tried his damnedest to earn it. Someone had to give Yakov a hard time.

“And why would that be?”

“I couldn’t sleep, of course,” Victor laughed, and to his pleasure it sounded real and full. 

Yakov waited for an explanation in steely silence.

“It’s the carpet, I think,” Victor gave the first excuse that came to mind. This was fine; he could work with it. “The carpet in the hotel room? It’s truly awful. I really can’t help but stare.”

“So bad it kept you from sleeping.” It wasn’t a question.

“I know,” Victor shook his head, “it’s a shame.”

“I’d like to advise you to get used to it,” Yakov said, and it was a warning.

Victor huffed the best and most dramatic sigh he could offer. “I don’t know how I’ll manage.”

Yakov waved him away and turned his back. “I don’t know why I put up with you like I do.”

“There’s this thing called ‘love’ in the air,” Victor smiled, “you might have caught it.”

“It sounds terrible,” Yakov replied levelly. 

“I’ve heard mixed reviews. I’m in no hurry to try it myself; I mean look at what it’s done to you.”

As he pushed off the wall, Victor thought he may have heard Yakov reply. The scraping of blades on ice drowned him out though, and Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it anyway. 

 

When practice was officially announced as over and skaters trickled out, Chris claimed that he’d met people at the gym and he’d be late getting back home. Victor walked to the hotel lost in his own head and spent the rest of his night staring holes into the godawful carpet. He hadn’t been lying when he told Yakov it was distracting. 

The TV buzzed in the background, but Victor couldn’t make sense of what was being said. At least the background noise of some comfort. 

“You’re off today,” Victor said to himself, falling onto his back, “what’s gotten into you? You’re not being yourself. Something seems wrong.”

Victor sighed, reaching a hand in the air and grasping nothing at all. That feeling was back. It settled in the pit of his stomach like lead, and zapped all of his remaining energy the moment it appeared. Victor’s arm fell back onto the bed limply. “Why?” He whispered.

It offered no response. 

He was beginning to feel like the world was leaving him behind. Everyone and everything rushed past him, and Victor stood in place. No one cared for an artist who's inspiration had dried up and who’s flame had been put out.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened or what had caused it, but he was sure that no amount of backpedalling would fix it. Everyone expected something from him, and Victor was running out of things to give. 

A pinging notification from his phone nearly sent Victor flying out of his skin. 

The sender’s number sent his heart into overdrive. 

Heart-attack via unexpected text message wasn’t exactly the way Victor had intended to die, but with the way his heart was threatening to crash through his chest, it was looking like his most likely ending.

 

**Yuuri:** I thought of another question to ask you. If that’s okay?

 

Victor released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and the world fell off his shoulders when he exhaled.

 

**Victor:** more than okay :)

 

He replied with embarrassing quickness. His thumbs hovered over his phone ready to pounce at the first sign of a reply. Victor had forgotten what shame was.

 

**Yuuri:** Oh! I thought you were going to be busy. The night is still young after all.

 

**Victor:** you sound like my roommate. he probably wouldn’t mind if you joined him, actually.

 

**Yuuri:** Oh. No no no. No that’s okay. No thank you.

 

Victor caught himself smiling and cleared his throat to warp it. He was glad Yuuri chose him over Chris despite the fact that they didn’t know one another at all. 

It was an oddly satisfying achievement. 

 

**Victor:** at least i can tell him i tried to get him a date. you said you had a question?

 

**Yuuri:** He could do much, much better.

 

**Yuuri:** I FORGOT TO ASK THE QUESTION. SORRY.

 

**Yuuri:** I was just wondering how your day was?

 

**Yuuri:** This was a bad idea haha.

 

**Yuuri:** Sorry for bothering you.

 

**Yuuri:** And sending so many messages. I need to stop now.

 

**Yuuri:** Ugh. I’m definitely stopping now.

 

**Yuuri:** Sorry.

 

**Yuuri:** ….feel free to block my number at any time.

 

There was no stifling, biting back, or masking the blinding smile Victor wore. His sides hurt from laughing, and he hugged his phone to his chest while whispering Yuuri’s name in a sigh. The man truly was a disaster. 

Unfortunately, it was terribly endearing. 

 

**Victor:** my day was amazing. :) how about yours?

 

**Yuuri:** I’m pretty sure I’ve never been more tired in my life.

 

**Victor:** you should sleep then silly!

 

**Yuuri:** Actually, I was wondering something. 

 

**Victor:** ??

 

**Yuuri:** Could we call tonight?

 

**Yuuri:** If not it’s totally okay! I know you have to be tired as well. It’s just nice to talk to someone who isn’t my mom.

 

**Yuuri:** I sound lame. God. Kill me.

 

**Victor:** it’s not lame to be friends with your mom!! apologize to her immediately!

 

**Yuuri:** I’ll apologize to her.

 

**Victor:** good! in that case go ahead and call me for a good time ;)

 

Minuted passed without a reply. Victor flipped his phone between his hands and studied the clock with intense interest as if every fiber of his being wasn’t prepared to burst with joy over a phone call. Victor noticed that the feeling in his gut was diminishing; somehow, he felt like he was moving in the right direction without having moved anything at all. 

Finally, the call came through, and Victor let it ring two times to mask his eagerness.

“Hi, Yuuri!” He beamed when he answered, offering the brightest professional voice he’d come to master.

“Victor,” Yuuri returned the greeting. His name cradled in Yuuri’s voice felt like a miracle. It was musical rather than harsh. Victor hummed his approval, but it went undetected by Yuuri.

“So talking to me last night led to a pretty bad day, huh?” Victor laughed.

Yuuri gave a breathy giggle of his own. “It’s not as if I don’t stay up late usually. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re just getting old,” Victor reasoned. It was a baited question, and he hoped to get a response he liked. 

“I’ve heard 23 is the new 80.”

Victor liked the response a lot. 

“Try being 27,” he said, “you’re practically walking into your grave at that point.”

Yuuri snorted, and Victor took pride in being the reason behind it. “Must be awful.”

“It comes with its own disadvantages.”

“What about advantages?”

“Plenty!” Victor’s mouth said. _Not a single one_ , his brain screamed.

“You sound like the type of person to find the good in anything,” Yuuri noted.

“I do what I can,” Victor said. Aiming to please had paved the road to Victor’s success. It was doing wonders for him now too. He silently thanked the heavens.

Yuuri hummed in consideration. “Must be nice.”

“I heard it rubs off on people,” Victor said.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t lie to you, Yuuri! If you stick around me long enough, maybe it’ll be contagious.”

Yuuri seemed to considerate it for a second. “I think I might drag you down if you stick around too long.”

Victor scoffed. Yuuri gave people wings. Yuuri, just by being himself, made souls take flight. He was no anchor. “I bet you’re wrong.”

Silence stretched over the line. “Just tell me, okay? When I become overwhelming. I don’t want that for you.”

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t.”

Hesitation, and then: “okay.”

 

They talked. 

They talked until Yuuri’s voice dragged with the heaviness of sleep and Victor couldn’t physically pry his own eyes open. But neither of them made any mentions of hanging up.

Yuuri fell asleep on the phone, and Victor fell asleep to the sounds of his breathing.

For the first time in a long time, Victor felt like everything was okay.

He slept soundly.

 

“Hey, did you have someone over last night?” Chris asked as they left the hotel for another day spent on ice.

“What?” Victor asked, eyebrows knit together.

“When I came home there were like two people snoring,” he explained.

Victor laughed and elbowed him in the side. “How drunk were you?”

Chris relented and shrugged, pulling his scarf up higher over his mouth. “Good point.”

Victor nodded. “As always.”

Throughout the duration of their walk, Victor checked his phone a dozen times, and Chris watched with growing interest each time. 

“You know,” he said, “if you tape your phone to your forehead you wouldn’t have to wear out your pockets like that. It stretches the denim.”

Victor offered his kindest smile and nodded. “I appreciate the tip.”

Chris shrugged. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Huh?”

“With your phone,” Chris nodded his head at the device in question. Victor clutched it tighter and resisted the urge to shove it back in his pocket like it never happened. “I know that you’re addicted to Instagram, but you haven’t check it once.”

“Have you been watching me that closely?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

Again, Chris only shrugged and his coat fell over his shoulder. While he corrected it, their eye contact broke and Victor took the chance to stash his phone away. 

“Just something I’ve noticed,” Chris said, falling back into a normal stride. “Are you okay, Victor? You’re a little different recently.”

Victor laughed, loud and boisterous. It took up space. It grabbed attention. It was a distraction. “Don’t be silly,” Victor reached out to ruffle his hair before pulling Chris in close. They walked with Victor’s arm slung over his shoulder. “I’m wonderful.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“I have no reason not to be.”

Chris smiled and bumped his hip into Victor’s. Victor pressed his lips together and kept walking.

 

Victor had never flubbed a practice so terribly in his life. He stumbled. He missed step sequences. He botched jumps. He made himself into such a fool that even Yuri Plisetsky, not-so-affectionately titled The Russian Punk, tried to offer his own version of condolences, harsh as they were. 

When he wasn’t failing and making a fool of himself in front of his distinguished peers, he was on his phone. 

He texted Yuuri to bid him a good day and again to remind him to apologize to his mom for his comment the night before. His fingers fumbled over keys as he battled back frustrated tears. He sent message after message needing something to ground him.

It wasn’t necessarily working, but it was better than nothing.

Time after time, he was called back to the ice, and time after time, he failed. His mind was a million places at once and his heart wasn’t in the rink at all. After a particularly bad fall that led Victor to slapping the ice and swallowing a guttural scream, Yakov ushered him off the ice.

Victor clutched his phone like squeezing the life out if might breathe some back into him. 

“Victor,” Yakov trailed off, studying Victor with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m okay,” Victor tried to laugh but choked on it, “I think someone replaced my legs.”

Yakov stared, and Victor felt like a child. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor looked out to the rink and then back at Yakov with a smile that wobbled at the edges. “I’m going to do better. I-“

“Victor,” Yakov repeated. He finally found the words he needed to say. Victor swallowed hard. “Go home. Rest, Vitya. Don’t come back tomorrow.”

“I-“

“Rest,” Yakov said with finality. “You need it. Don’t look at me like that.”

Victor bit his tongue. “It’s just an off day. Let me try again,” he argued.

“For once, listen to me.” Yakov rested two hands on both Victor’s shoulders. “You stubborn child, listen to me.”

Victor folded in on himself. First, his shoulders sagged. His knees buckled. His arms wrapped around his torso, and his head bowed. 

“Okay,” he said horsely. He couldn’t leave without a smile though, so he flashed his weakest and least believable one yet.

Yakov nodded, allowed time for Victor to change his shoes, and walked him to the door. “The ice will wait for you,” he said as a parting word.

Victor nodded and trudged back home, thoughtless and relatively numb. It was a terrible feeling, to feel nothing at all. 

 

“Victor?” Yuuri said the moment he answered the phone. His confusion was palpable. Victor couldn’t even justify his call. He had nothing to say, but it helped to have something, _someone_ , to focus on. “Victor are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Yuuri,” the smile in his voice faltered, and he made his own self wince.

Yuuri caught it, and he hesitated. 

_This is how it ends_ , Victor thought, _they see you falling apart, losing your cool, and you lose your appeal._

Except, Yuuri didn’t leave. “You’ll tell me when you aren’t, though, right? No one should have to carry their burdens alone.”

“Of course,” Victor said, and he sounded weak. He hated it more than he’d hated the morning’s practice. “How has your day been?”

“Not bad,” Yuuri said followed by a soft “oof” as he fell, presumably to sit down. “Work keeps me occupied.”

“Where do you work?” Distractions, distractions, distractions. Victor wanted all of them.

“Ice Castle Hasetsu.” Yuuri paused to talk to someone in the background. “What about you? Is work why you’re in Japan?”

“Kind of,” Victor said, “I skate.”

“On ice?”

It earned a laugh from deep in Victor’s chest. “Yes. Competitively.”

“Oh! That’s- wait.” Victor could heard the gears working in Yuuri’s head as the silence stretched between them. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my _GOD. YUUKO-“_ and the line died.

 

Five minutes later, Yuuri called back.

“I hung up on Victor Nikiforov.”

“You’re making a habit out of it,” Victor could feel his lips turning up in a smile.

“Like… The Victor.”

“There are many Victors in Russia actually,” Victor said, regaining some of his playful nature. 

Yuuri huffed. He babbled and he stumbled over words when he wasn’t stuttering. Victor’s heart began pumping again. He felt it return to his body and kick back into working order.

“Yuuri, are you going to be okay?”

“I… don’t know,” he finally managed.

“Me either,” Victor said in reference to himself, “but I think we can make it through together, yeah?”

“If I don’t have a heart attack first,” Yuuri squeaked.

Victor laughed. Yuuri took in a shaky breath.

“Yuuri,” Victor prompted. “How would you feel about meeting up tomorrow? I’m banned from practice.”

“What?” Yuuri deadpanned. Victor thought he heard his heart hit the floor. 

“Is that a no?”

“What time?” Yuuri asked eventually after clearing his throat half a dozen times.

“The earlier the better.”

There were whispers behind the receiver. Yuuri came back, still unsure of himself but regaining an inkling of composure. “My parents own the bathhouse. I’ll be there.” His voice wavered and he sounded like he was waiting for the punchline.

“Great!” Victor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I…” he took a steadying breath. “Absolutely. Yes.”

“Take care,” Victor said, casting his gaze outside and watching as the sun kissed the horizon and the sky caught fire. 

“You do the same,” Yuuri whispered and hung up the phone for the night.

Victor studied the phone in his hand, sliding it between his hands and running his fingers along the screen. After an extended moment, he breathed out until he felt himself fully deflate.

He breathed in and built himself from the ground up.

His heart beat steadily and flushed out the crippling sadness of the day. His eyes closed, and, for once, he took Yakov’s advice.

He rested.

 

Night turned to morning and Victor woke feeling excited for the day. A feeling he’d forgotten. He dressed and undressed and dressed again in something new until he’d filtered through his entire wardrobe twice. 

He nibbled on breakfast and skipped out of the room before Chris could even realize he was gone. With a cup of coffee in hand, Victor took to the streets, hopping on a train and trying to drown the emotions that were crawling past his throat and distorting his face.

He felt like a child.

He felt free.

It was hard to keep from bouncing in his seat as he waited for his stop. Some may argue that he did, in fact, bounce, but he would absolutely deny it.

When the Hasetsu station came into view, Victor was the first to bolt to the door and the only person to get off. Initially, he thought he may have to ask for directions, but the bathhouse was hard to miss. Signs were everywhere as if the massive building sitting proudly atop one of the highest hills in the city weren’t enough advertisement. 

Victor made headway there before he could talk himself into going back to where he came from. This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’d told himself no friends.

But, then again, he’d told himself that closing himself off was the only way to be happy.

Perhaps he’d made some bad calculations and some amendments could be made to his rule book.

Yuuri was going to be his first. 

 

People flooded the bathhouse in various states of undress. Many crowded an entertainment room and others filtered out of doors down wide hallways. Victor frowned. Looking for a man he’d never seen before was a lot harder than he’d intended it to be.

Yuuri, as he usually did, took the struggle away from Victor by calling his name.

“Victor!” He called again. Victor spun on his heels and locked eyes with the man of the hour.

Yuuri, with his arms raised, glasses askew, and oversized sweater swallowing him whole, looked nothing less than perfect.

Victor tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. Yuuri came to meet him where he stood, cemented in place, and his smile was blinding. 

The morning sun encased him in golden light. Victor had never been in the presence of an angel before, so, naturally, he forgot how to breathe.

No one could save him now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yurikatisuki.tumblr.com  
> talk to me


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet. They talk. They go on a date that, of course, isn't officially a date. And they both wonder how they've lived without one another for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I'M SORRY.  
> My girlfriend came to visit and then I caught the flu ;(  
> I'm better now but a lot of this was written when I was on way too much cold medicine.  
> Regardless, I hope it's acceptable!

There were many things Victor felt capable of doing when Yuuri’s eyes were fixed on him. He could hang the stars, part the sea, draw blood from rocks, or move mountains, but for the life of him he could not form a single coherent thought. Words swarmed Victor’s mind but died on the tip of his tongue. There were thousands of things dying to be said, but his voice refused to entertain any of them. _Perfect._

The only comfort Victor found was in the fact that Yuuri was very clearly facing the same issue. His eyes would rove over Victor’s face, his lips would part, no sound would come out, and he’d snap his jaw closed again. Both of them mimed fish out of water, completely captivated by the other’s presence. People shuffled around them. A door slammed, the television buzzed, a few people yelled a conversation between themselves, and to Victor they were all oddly muted. 

Finally, when it became clear that they were both fighting a losing battle, Yuuri thrust his hand out as an invitation for a handshake. Victor’s gaze flicked down to his extended hand and then back to Yuuri’s eyes before he broke into laughter, slotting his hand into Yuuri’s like it was always meant to be there. 

“It’s incredible,” Victor said, “I don’t think anyone has ever stunned me into silence.” The handshake had long since ended, but they still stood hand in hand. “You’re shaking, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s throat bobbed; his cheeks flooded with lively color, and then Victor’s words registered. “Sorry!” He yelped, jerking his hand back so quickly he nearly took Victor with him. “I’m sweating too. Not that I need to announce it. I’m sure you noticed. Of course you noticed.” Yuuri spared a quick glance around at all the people who weren’t paying them a bit of attention. “And now everyone knows. I keep opening my mouth and stupid things keep coming out. I-“ He shifted his feet to ground himself and knotted his fingers together to give his eyes something to study. “Hi,” he whispered and it was feeble at best. 

“Hi,” Victor repeated, unable to mimic the same softness. Instead, he sounded ready to bust.

Victor wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but sometime between stepping off the morning train and meeting Yuuri in the flesh, his brain had shot off into space and left Victor to fend for himself. All he had to guide him was his heart that was conveniently inflated far too large to sit comfortably in his chest. 

“I pictured this going a lot better,” Yuuri confessed, “I had this whole scenario rehearsed but here you are and here I am.” He huffed a laugh, scuffing his socked toes against the floor. “A mess.”

“I think it’s becoming,” Victor moved to flick a lock of hair out of Yuuri’s face. 

Yuuri snorted as if directly trying to combat the compliment; the color in his cheeks was spreading to the tips of his ears and bleeding down his neck. Victor wondered if Yuuri could see the way his own heart was abusing his ribcage or notice the effects of the swirling feeling in his gut. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but, Victor Nikiforov, I think you’re dead wrong.”

“Yuuri,” Victor clamped a hand over his heart, “do you mean it sincerely? Do you think I don’t know what I’m talking about? I’m hurt. I’m-“ He was a few seconds away from taking a knee when Yuuri swooped in waving his hands defensively. 

“No, no, no! It’s nothing like that! I’m just- you’re just- it’s just,” he exhaled audibly. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Victor ruffled Yuuri’s hair, and the other man shrank under his touch. “Just a thank you will do.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, adamantly refusing to make eye contact. Victor could live with that, it earned him a second to breathe.

“So!” Victor slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and led him out towards a town he had no knowledge of. Yuuri allowed himself to be guided, slipping on shoes as they joined the flow of the bustling sidewalks. “Have you made any plans for today?”

“No,” Yuuri said with a slight frown. “I probably should have. I didn’t think about it.”

“Don’t be silly,” Victor pulled him in tighter, “my entire life is ruled by plans and agendas. It gets a little dull after a while, doesn’t it?”

Yuuri nodded.

“I think it’s a great thing. We have time to do whatever we want.” Victor beamed, and Yuuri smiled a little in return. It kicked Victor’s heart into overdrive, he masked it by talking. Talking covered everything. “What are your favorite things to do? As your friend, I feel I’m entitled to know.”

“Entitled, huh?” Yuuri couldn’t hide the smile in his voice no matter how determined he was to hide his face. 

“Yes!” Victor insisted.

Yuuri hummed, and though he hadn’t fully relaxed with Victor’s close proximity, his shoulders were significantly less tense. Victor found that he loved the way light bounced off of Yuuri’s hair. He liked that, though subconsciously, Yuuri leaned into him when he walked rather than pulling away. He liked the way he corrected his glasses like clockwork despite the fact that they never moved. Also, the fact that he was easy to blush was an added bonus. 

Yuuri was an entirely mesmerizing person without trying to be.

Eventually, Victor knew he’d have to thank Chris for this. 

“Victor?”

The sound of his name brought him back to Earth. Doe eyes swimming with unasked questions greeted him upon return. 

“Are you okay?”

“I am truly terrific,” Victor confirmed, “just a little spacey.” He offered a grin that could compete with the sun. 

With a raised eyebrow, Yuuri nodded. “Well, I was wondering if the beach sounded okay to you. If not I can think of something else I’m sure. It’s not all that exciting. It’s just a suggestion.”

Victor’s eyes caught fire. “That’s perfect.”

The worry that wrinkled Yuuri’s face washed away in an instant. He slipped from under Victor’s arm and took him by the wrist without hesitation, electing to walk ahead. Electricity spiked in Victor’s blood. 

Though Yuuri’s awkward nature was becoming, Victor had to admit that confidence suited Yuuri beautifully. 

Victor couldn’t catch a break. 

 

Yuuri walked with purpose while Victor was too caught up in studying the man in front of him to even be careful with his own two feet. 

“The beach is up ahead,” Yuuri announced, twisted to catch a brief glimpse of Victor’s face. His nails dug into Victor’s wrist. He was sweating again, but Victor was too. He blamed it on the heat and the hike through town. He hadn’t dressed for this.

His intense staring was steadily boring holes into Yuuri’s back, but neither of them mentioned it. If bottling time was possible, Victor wouldn’t hesitate in choosing this exact moment to preserve. With his heartbeat in his ears and Yuuri holding onto him with a grip that promised to never let go, Victor was sure he’d never felt more content.

This was a space where responsibilities didn’t exist, his career was a mute point, and he had a friend who was interested in his company simply because he enjoyed his company. In truth, Victor was almost sure he was dreaming, because spaces like this weren’t meant for people like him. In the past, bonding had never been means for friendships: it served to be a link for more sponsorships, business deals, and networking. 

At this moment, Victor was living inside of a lifelong dream, and he owed all his thanks to Yuuri.

Whether it was by drunken mistake, fate’s design, or some combination of the two, Yuuri had come to him when he’d needed it most and in the span of three days he’d seen Victor fall and rise again. He had made Victor feel human, but, more importantly, he’d made feeling human feel _okay_.

He’d managed to make the word ‘friend’ have meaning and not feel so foreign. 

He’d made three days feel like a lifetime. 

He’d made Victor’s full lifetime feel like it’d been leading up to this moment. No amount of gold medals would ever compare. 

Victor sighed and Yuuri was quick to check on him. 

“Still okay?” Yuuri stopped. When he noticed his iron grip on Victor’s arm, he let go and held his hands up as if he was preparing to proclaim his innocence. “Sorry, y’know, about that. I just didn’t want to lose you. In the crowd, I mean.” He huffed and repeated the apology. 

“Why be sorry?” Victor held out his hand for what felt like hours of extended eye contact and awkward shuffling before Yuuri finally clasped on again. “Lead the way.”

Yuuri’s lips pulled into a grin before he nodded and trudged forward.

 

Yuuri hiked over dunes and kicked up sand as he plowed across the beach, and Victor followed with only a hair more grace but far more dirt in his clothes.It was Winter, but the sun clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. The heat was ruthless, and Victor was seconds away from stripping before Yuuri stopped and they nearly collided. Victor took the chance to catch his breath and Yuuri just stared ahead.

They found themselves facing a small clearing. It was nestled between tall dunes and overgrown shrubbery that created a cocoon big enough for only a handful of people to squeeze into. 

“I’ve never brought anyone here,” Yuuri said, finally. Victor’s heart beat an irregular rhythm. “Aside from my dog, of course, but he got sick. So.” Yuuri shrugged, and stepped forward slowly, almost in reverence, before he disappeared behind greenery. Victor was quick to follow, not wanting to miss a single second in Yuuri’s company. 

“How did you find this place, Yuuri?” Victor asked as he took it in. “It’s incredible.”

Yuuri flushed. “When I was younger and I got anxious, I would skate. But, when I quit, I had to find other things to do, so I started wandering the beaches.”

“Why did you quit?” Victor sat with his legs folded beneath him while Yuuri had his legs outstretched. 

“When you’re not good at something, you have to know when to let go.” Yuuri studied Victor over the top of his glasses. 

Victor hummed. “You should skate with me sometime.”

“What?” Yuuri asked and it was deadpan.

“Why not?”

“Because? Because you’re you? Because- because?”

“Yuuri, I think you’ll need a better reason than that.”

“I need time to think on it.”

Victor laughed, but allowed it. “Fair enough, just let me know when you’re ready.” From his vantage point, Victor could easily see the sea as it roared and crashed against the shore. Somewhere in the distance, children howled with laughter and shrieked as the tide pulled in closer. Gulls cried overhead. Strangers walked the coastline with bare feet and clasped hands, and Victor studied them somberly. “Tell me about yourself. Any love interests?”

“No!” Yuuri exclaimed too quickly. “I’m not interested in anyone. No.”

“Ah,” Victor sighed, “that’s too bad. What did you study in college?”

“Business.”

“Yuuri!” Victor cried, tearing his eyes away from the beach and back onto the boy who’d led him here. “That’s terribly boring!”

“But practical,” Yuuri said. It wasn’t an argument; how could Yuuri deny how boring it was anyway? It was impossible. 

“I think there’s more to life than being practical, don’t you? I think life doesn’t cater to practicality; it’s full of surprises.”

“This is one of those surprises,” Yuuri said.

“Hm?”

“Being here. With you.” Yuuri pursed his lips. “I think I still haven’t fully processed it. It’s… surreal.”

“I’m flattered.” When Victor smirked, Yuuri looked unimpressed. “But, yes, I think this is one of those surprises for me as well.”

Yuuri seemed taken aback. Those unasked questions resurfaced on his face. 

“Being banned from practice has never happened to me before,” Victor offered a bitter smile, “but, I’d like to think it worked it. It gave me the chance to give you a friend.”

“My hero.” Yuuri said, though he was looking at the ground. 

Victor winked. “All in a day’s work.” They fell back into silence, but it was warm and kind, not at all awkward. “Can I ask another question?”

“I have a feeling you will even if I say no.”

“You know me better than I know myself,” Victor gushed, “I wanted to ask you, because you’ve asked me a couple times today, are you okay?”

Yuuri didn’t have to look up for Victor to see the fat tears welling in his eyes. The silence stretched on, only filled with Yuuri’s steady breathing and the sounds of the water crashing in and rolling back out. Victor was fighting back the urge to launch himself at Yuuri and cling to him until all the pieces melded back together. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” Yuuri said and his voice wobbled but didn’t break. He was so much stronger than he let people believe. “But most of the time I think I might be missing something.”

“Yuuri,” Victor prompted, earning only a sidelong glance. It was a good enough invitation to continue, “As your friend, I want to help you find whatever it is that makes you happy.”

“Victor, I-“

“No! Don’t. You know me better than I know myself, but I know you, and I know you’re wanting to talk me out of it. It won’t work. I’ve made up my mind.”

Yuuri watched him; his eyes were still damp and glossy.

“Starting today, we’re on a mission to make you happy. I want to see that, okay?”

Victor waited for a reply but got nothing. 

“And I know you want to see that, too. Sometime’s a little help goes a long way, don’t you think?”

Yuuri had either fallen asleep, bowed, or was agreeing with a half nod. Victor translated it as the latter and continued swiftly forward. 

“I think so, too,” he said, moving so that he and Yuuri sat close enough that their legs touched. “Thank you for bringing me here, Yuuri.” Victor cast his gaze back towards the ocean. “You realize you’re going to have to guide me here for the rest of my life, right?”

“I can do that,” Yuuri agreed.

“Consider it payment for my help.”

“Consider it done.”

They both sat and watched as the world moved past them, if only for that moment, perfectly content. 

 

Yuuri’s stomach grumbled and shattered the silence they’d been sharing as it dragged a laugh out of Victor. 

“I’m going to have to agree with your stomach. I’m starving.” Victor hoisted himself upright and offered a hand down to Yuuri. 

Though he was reluctant, Yuuri took a firm hold of the hand he’d been given and allowed himself to be pulled onto his feet. 

“Yuuri, what’s your favorite food?”

“As my friend, are you entitled to know that too?”

“Absolutely!” Victor skipped to Yuuri’s side as he made his way down the beach. He kicked up sand that sprayed both of their backs and, in response, Yuuri bumped his hip hard enough to send him hurdling towards the ocean. 

War erupted once Victor had righted himself enough to charge after Yuuri who’d taken to sprinting away from the scene of the crime. Victor, bless his athleticism, caught up with ease and took Yuuri by the waist, hoisting him up and carrying him towards the water’s edge. Yuuri screamed his protests, flailing the entire way until Victor dropped him into the sea. The plan was to run away and then laugh, but life in its infinite surprises had a different idea.

Yuuri latched onto his neck and dragged him in head first. Salt water filled Victor’s mouth when he yelped in surprise and once he’d surfaced, Yuuri’s laughter filled the air. He was sopping wet, freezing cold, and his skin felt sticky in the air, but he swore he’d never felt lighter. 

When he spit water, Yuuri only laughed harder and splashed some back at him.

“That was rude,” Victor said with no real menace. 

“You started it,” he retorted as he heavily pulled himself back onto dry land. Victor followed and moped the entire time. 

Playfully, Yuuri bumped their hips together once more, and they began the long journey home. 

 

People stared as they passed, though Victor figured they weren’t taking an intense interest in Yuuri for the same reasons he was. He couldn’t possibly understand why, though. 

He was dazzling in the sunlight. He had his own gravitational pull. When he spoke, Victor couldn’t help but be drawn in. 

Water dripped from his hair and made his ill-fitting sweater hang even lower around his thighs. Every step he took squelched, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stared ahead, determined as ever, eyes glittering under the mid-afternoon sun, completely unaware of the fact that he shined just as brightly.

 

The throng of people from earlier that morning had subsided substantially; it was the first thing Victor noticed the moment he reentered the bathhouse. 

“Where is everyone?” He asked.

“Huh?” Yuuri looked around. “The guests? The baths probably. Or around town,” he shrugged, “why? Did you need someone?”

“No! You’re more than enough for me,” Victor punctuated his sentence with a wink that almost earned him an eye roll. “Just curiosity. I am still hungry though. Just in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” Yuuri assured him, “I’ll tell Mom. You can change in my room.”

While Victor nodded his agreement, Yuuri led him down a hallway. Suddenly, though, he snapped his head up so fast that Victor thought he may be attempting to break his own neck. The color had drained from his face and his eyes seemed haunted behind his glasses which had slid down the bridge of his nose. 

“Yuuri?”

He didn’t answer, he only shoved Victor out of the way just enough to reach the handle on his open door and slam it shut. 

“I changed my mind you can’t go in there,” he said, breathless.

Victor peaked over his shoulder as if it would allow him to see through the door. He frowned. “What? Why?”

“You just can’t,” Yuuri said as a rebuttal, moving to block Victor whenever he shifted his feet. 

“You’re not very good at this whole arguing thing,” Victor said, “I’m sure there’s nothing to be this worried about.”

“There is. Can’t you just trust me on this one? I can go in and get you clothes.” Yuuri watched Victor levelly, and Victor with not much else to do, nodded.

Slowly, Yuuri cracked the door open and squeezed through as limited space as he could, but, before he could get the door shut again, Victor slammed a hand against it and busted it wide open. 

Posters. There were posters everywhere. The walls, the ceiling, rolled up in corners, and even framed on his desk.

Yuuri was screeching and attempted to shrink himself, but Victor only smiled. “Huh. Well, you did say you were a fan.”

Incapable of words, Yuuri squeaked. His head was attempting to redirect itself to the inside of his torso. 

Victor wandered in further and found a cluster of posters he particularly enjoyed. He ran his fingers over them, tracing the outlines of a face he barely recognized, and chewed on his tongue. 

“I have a couple of these too,” he confessed, “if that makes you feel any better. I look damn good. Who could blame me?”

Yuuri didn’t look at all comforted, but at least his neck wasn’t inching away anymore. 

“You’ve got some old ones in here,” Victor continued to wander, “you could sell these for some money now. Who needs them when you have the real deal?” He flashed a ridiculous pose and felt sand trickling out of his pants leg. When his face twisted in disgust, it earned a laugh out of Yuuri. It was rewarding in the end. “This is what you were so panicked about?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest and water hit the floor in oversized droplets. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Everyone collects something,” Victor said. “When I was ten I collected winter hats.”

“The ones with the fur?”

Victor nodded. “The fluffier the better. And I looked great in them, mind you.”

“Ah, thank you for verifying my suspicions.”

“Not that there was any doubt, of course.”

“Of course not. Why’d you stop?”

“Mom didn’t like them. They were clutter to her, and she had this suspicion that they would give me lice.” A ghost of a smile passed over Victor’s expression. “She was so worried about it she made me shave my head. Once my hair started growing back, I moved in with Yakov for training. I stopped cutting it then. My parents called it childish, audiences called it beautiful.” He fell back onto Yuuri’s bed. “It made them so mad. Anyway! I like the posters, Yuuri. I admire you for your dedication.”

Yuuri’s face had turned a startling shade of red that spread far past the collar of his sweater. “I’m going to crawl under a rock and die.”

“Do you want me to sign them before you do that?”

“Oh my God.”

“Just an innocent question! No need to look at me like that,” Victor chided though his voice rode on a hint of a laugh. 

Yuuri threw a change of clothes at Victor once he managed to get his feet into working order. “I almost hope they don’t fit,” Yuuri muttered to himself as he neared the door.

“Is it a matter of me showing skin?”

“No!” Yuuri shouted as he stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Victor laughed when he heard Yuuri’s head thud against the other side of the door. 

 

Victor changed quickly, and Yuuri’s wish came true. The clothes fit terribly. They hung off of his slender frame awkwardly, and as he was taller than Yuuri the pants were both baggy and bordering on being capris. 

He figured it was good enough for traveling home in though. 

As Victor made way towards the door, his eyes landed on Yuuri’s desk. Past the framed photos and piled of documents he couldn’t read, he spotted a marker. 

Victor dropped his ruined clothes and uncapped the marker, searching the room for his favorite poster. Once he’d decided on the one he liked, making sure it was in a well-hidden spot, he attempted his best handwriting. He knew for a fact that writing in Japanese was completely out of the question, and Russian would leave more questions than anything. Admittedly, writing in English was not a strong suit, but he was running low on options.

 

_Yuuri,_

_You have a wonderful laugh._

_I hope you laugh more. I hope I can help with that._

_It’s day one of the mission to make you happy!_

_It’ll be great. I’m excited! :)_

_xx,_

_Victor_

 

He scribbled the date on the lowest corner, placed the marker precisely where he’d found it, collected his clothes, and stepped outside.

 

Yuuri waited for him at the place they’d first met with two bowls occupying his hands. “I told Mom you were hungry,” Yuuri said to the floor when Victor entered his line of sight, “she said she’s more than happy to feed the ‘handsome foreign guest.’ Her words.”

“I’m sure.” Victor’s smile was sly as he followed Yuuri to take a seat. He didn’t even care what he was above to shove in his mouth. It smelled divine and Yuuri didn’t seem mad enough to poison him, so he ate.

And ate.

And ate until he felt Yuuri’s pants beginning to fit around the waist. 

Yuuri didn’t eat, but he did watch expectantly. “You asked what my favorite food is.” He nodded at the bowls.

“So not only do you have spectacular taste in collectables, you also know your way around food.” Victor raised his eyebrows. “Amazing.”

“This is bullying,” Yuuri said.

“Actually, I think it’s called friendship, Yuuri. And I seem to remember you agreeing to it.”

“What was I thinking?”

“Probably that you’re incredibly lucky.”

“You’re probably right,” Yuuri agreed with a smile warm enough to melt ice caps. Yuuri Katsuki was the source of global warming. Victor had no doubts. 

 

Victor willed time to slow, but it refused to listen. Far too soon, he found himself hugging Yuuri’s mother goodbye and walking to the train station with Yuuri at his side. It was so incredibly nice to not be alone. 

“Hey, if you want,” Yuuri cleared his throat, “call me when you get home. Just so I know everything is okay.”

“Not because you’ll miss me at all?”

“Maybe a little bit because of that, but mostly because I want to make sure everything is okay.” Yuuri met Victor’s eyes for only a split second. “Only if you want to, though.”

“It’s a date.”

Yuuri scoffed and turned on his heels. When he turned back to wave, he wore a sad smile. “Bye, Victor.”

“See you soon, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s smile brightened ever so slightly and then he was on his way home. 

Victor had barely made it onto the train before he had his phone in hand and Yuuri’s number, now memorized, pressed into the keypad. 

Victor was no stranger to the sensation of falling. He knew the initial panic when his feet slipped out from under him, and he knew the feeling of scrambling to catch himself before the inevitable spill.

He also could easily recall the feeling of accepting what was to come and bracing for impact. 

Victor knew what falling felt like, and as he watched Yuuri walk away, blending into a crowd of faceless people, Victor recognized that what he was feeling now was much like falling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may be separated, but their newfound dependency knows no bounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The friendship is blossoming. They talk ALL THE DAMN TIME in this chapter.  
> Life is good.  
> Thanks for reading, you guys! I owe you the world.

Before Victor got his chance to place the call, Chris saved him from his own desperation with a perfectly timed phone call of his own.

There was no hello. Instead, Chris greeted him by saying, “where the hell are you? Yuri has already declared you as dead and is divvying up your stuff.”

“Why does he always assume I’m dead?”

There was muffled conversation, and then:

“He said it’s because you’re old.”

Just like Yuri to hit right where it hurts. Victor rolled his eyes to compensate for his wounded pride. “Well, he can help himself to everything I own because he’s so kind.”

Chris scoffed. “I’ll relay the message. Seriously though, where are you?”

“You’re not the only one who can meet people,” Victor said, eyes trained out the window and heart sinking to his knees when the train lurched forward and Yuuri’s hometown smeared away to nothingness. Inky purples were blotting out the sunset and forcing the sun below the horizon. People swayed and bumped into him. Someone dabbed on a perfume that burned his nose. The woman beside him fell asleep against his shoulder. A baby cried, and internally Victor did the same. 

Life was kind of a drab when reality came crashing back down. 

Chris snorted out a laugh. “I was starting to believe I was. I’m proud of you, Victor! Making f-“

“Don’t say the f-word,” Victor chided in a singsong tone. 

“The f? Oh. Right. Victor doesn’t have friends.”

“You said it.”

“You gonna spank me?”

Despite himself, Victor laughed. “Probably not,” Victor replied.

“That’s a shame. Can’t blame me for trying.” Victor could see the sly smile Chris was wearing though the only things passing by him were trees and mountaintops. He thought he was so clever. Sometimes, Victor had to admit he was. “Okay, well, I was just calling to make sure you hadn’t been kidnapped. I’m gonna run Yuri off. See you in a bit?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful with Yuri; he bites when he’s mad.”

“He’s always mad.”

“I know.”

“Consider me warned.”

“Good luck!” Victor called. Chris laughed and hung up the phone, leaving Victor to the mercy of his company. It was subpar at best. The sleeping woman slept on, and Victor was relatively sure she was drooling. He’d have to visit a dry cleaner before returning the clothes. The baby continued to cry. Life moved forward with Victor in the middle of it, but his mind was miles away tucked away inside a certain bathhouse with the best company the world had to offer and the warmest feeling he’d ever experienced. 

He sighed, and though it had no reason to be there, a smile settled lightly on his lips. It met his eyes.

Everything was okay. 

He surprised himself with the thought. When his phone buzzed in his hands and Yuuri’s name appeared with the notification, the feeling solidified.

 

**Yuuri:** I told myself I was going to wait on you to call me when you got back to the hotel. 

 

**Victor:** Buuuuuuut? :)) Do you happen to miss me Yuuri??? :)))

 

Yuuri typed a message, stopped, typed again, and stopped.

 

**Yuuri:** No I wanted to thank you.

 

**Victor:** ?

 

**Yuuri:** For

 

**Yuuri:** For wasting your time with me.

 

**Yuuri:** I mean wasting a day with me. This isn’t coming out right.

 

**Yuuri:** Just thank you. For spending time with me. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.

 

**Victor:** Yuuri!! <3<3 of course! I’ll check my schedule when I get back! maybe we can make a habit of wasting time together.

 

**Yuuri:** Ok. Yuuko is angry she didn’t get to meet you.

 

**Victor:** All of your friends are so sweet. :) Gosh. Meanwhile my friends have declared me officially dead & are stealing my things.

 

Yuuri sent a horrified emoji coupled with a few words.

 

 **Yuuri:** That’s unfortunate. 

 

**Victor:** :((( Tell me about it. 

 

**Yuuri:** Next time you’re here I can show you places to buy new things?

 

**Victor:** I’m excited for it!

 

Victor felt his heart pound a little faster than it normally did. He placed a hand on his chest, fingers gathering the cloth there. 

 

**Victor:** Getting off the train now. Talk to you in a bit.

 

People flooded past, but Victor remained stationary until only he remained. He thought, only for a second, that he could stay there. He could drop the life he built and keep doing this. Keep meeting new people, trying new things, visiting bathhouses and throwing nice boys into oceans. 

He could keep this pounding in his chest from a heart that was glad to be alive. 

His brain could always feel okay.

Rationally, though, he knew it wasn’t an option. Victor didn’t run away, and he especially didn't run away from his lifelong dream; he was going to be happy regardless. Why shouldn’t he be? 

He stepped off the train with only a second to spare and the doors nearly clipped him on the way out. 

People envied him, loved him, looked up to him, and wanted to be him. He could easily build happiness off of that. Victor was relatively sure he was manufactured with a defect; no person could be this massively successful yet still feel so numb to it.

He’d built an empire that he wanted to burn down more often than not. 

 

“Victor!” Someone called, and Victor's head snapped around so quickly it could induce whiplash. “Victor! My daughter loves you. Could you-“ A small scrap of paper was thrust his way.

Victor gasped, taking the pen and paper as if they were made of something sacred. The smile he wore was constructed of only teeth and it didn’t quite reflect in his eyes. The darkening sky made for a good mask. 

He scribbled a generic message, added as many hearts to his name as he could squeeze on the page, and passed it back over. The man beamed. His smile practically served as the sun when it was off duty. It was almost as nice as Yuuri’s.

“She’ll be thrilled.”

Victor nodded, politely thanked him, and excused himself from the scene. A few more people recognized him as he walked, asking for pictures and producing items meant for autographing. His travel time back to the hotel had nearly doubled. By the time he reached the hotel steps, he’d collected a notable following.

People called his name. They reached for him. They gushed amongst themselves and it almost felt like a form of worship. News cameras had appeared while cell phone cameras flashed. 

He’d trained from the time he was six years old just to reach this moment. This was the peak. The summit. The promised land. The fruit of his endless labor, injuries, and sleepless nights. Sometimes he wondered what his six year old self would think of the flashing lights that mingled with shrill laughter and the chanting of his own name. Would he change his plans? Would he keel over from joy at the prospect of real fame?

Probably the latter. 

His smile stretched a little wider until it physically hurt. He waved to the crowd in wide, over-the-top motions until Yakov appeared, a hero without a cape. It seemed Victor owed him more every day.

“Can’t you go one day without causing a damn scene?” Yakov asked as he forcefully shoved Victor inside the quiet of the hotel lobby. People outside screamed louder, demanding attention. 

Victor dug his heels into the ground and made a show of doting on his crowd. He also enjoyed testing Yakov’s full strength. Despite his age, Victor was still no match for him. “I can’t help that moths are attracted to the flame, Yakov.”

Yakov scoffed and adjusted his hat before he waled Victor on the back of the head. “You cocky child.”

Victor smirked and earned himself another smack.

“I thought I told you to rest today.”

“I rested well!”

Yakov glared, Victor averted his gaze. 

“I did; I’m good as new,” Victor said to defend his honor. “You’ll see tomorrow.”

“You should hope so.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Victor laughed, jabbing his coach in the side, “threatening. You’ve scared me into submission.”

Yakov stepped away, closer to the side of the elevator. “I spend five minutes with you and I need a migraine pill.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“And you say the stupidest.” 

They fell into silence, Yakov seemed lost in his own mind, glaring daggers at the elevator door. Meanwhile, Victor stared at the mirrored ceiling and realized his didn't recognize the person looking back at him. This man didn't belong on the covers of magazines and on the posters Yuuri had plastered on his walls. Maybe his change had been subtle because everyone around him seemed to know him as well as they knew themselves. But Victor, when he really looked, couldn't put a name on his own reflection if he tried. 

He was a man caught in the in between. Happy and then not. Good and then not. Sociable and then not. Nothing was stable aside from his own instability. 

Once upon a time, that constant cornerstone had been skating. Now, though, Victor wasn’t entirely sure if it hadn’t become the problem. 

The elevator chimed and two sets of eyes fell on the floor number. Yakov was the first to step off. He acknowledged Victor studying his own reflection with a labored sigh. “I do hope you’ve recovered from whatever happened yesterday.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and pinned Victor with a critical gaze. Victor stood stoic.

“I have,” Victor confirmed. “I’m absolutely fine. Thank you for caring!”

Departing on a high note, Yakov rolled his eyes and left Victor to ride the rest of the way up alone. 

The door closed. Victor released a breath and deflated. He kept a firm hold on his phone for no reason aside from that Yuuri existed there and was tangible. 

“Victor!” Two rink mates launched themselves at him the moment the elevator yawned and released him onto the right floor.

The oldest and heaviest of the two, Georgi, hung himself from Victor’s neck with strong arms. “Yuri said you died!”

“Georgi wouldn’t listen to the rest of us,” the other, Mila, sighed with an arm looped across his shoulders. “We tried to tell him you were fine, but you see where that got us. I’m pretty sure he started re-choreographing his free-skate for you. Can you believe it? He chose you over Anya.”

“I’m better looking,” Victor puffed his chest out, and Mila snorted.

“Debatable.”

A small huddle of skaters wandered down the hall, shouting greets down to Victor. He waved and effectively shook off his friends where they hung from him.

“Seriously, though. Where did you go?” Mila rocked onto her heels and Georgi moved to stand at her side, eyes wide and studying him with undivided curiosity. 

Victor shrugged and took a large step in the direction of his familiar front door. 

“I’ll never tell.” Victor slipped inside his room.

“Illusiveness doesn’t suit you,” Mila shouted loud enough to be heard over the slamming of the door.

Victor leaned heavily against the threshold and was fooled into thinking he’d escaped the onslaught of questions, but when he met Chris’s eyes it was clear they’d only just begun. 

“Those aren’t your clothes,” he said in lieu of a regular old-fashioned hello. 

“They are not.”

“You got laid.”

“I did not.”

Chris seemed more disappointed than Victor ever had been over the whole topic. Victor avoided looking in Chris’s direction as he paced the room and fell onto his bed, arms outstretched above his head. The room was dark now, and his eyelids were heavy. The sun had decided to rest early as well.

“I think you’re lying.”

“I think you can think whatever you like.”

“Mila’s right, you know. Illusiveness doesn’t suit you. You can’t just keep bottling up the good stuff.”

That was the problem in a nutshell. The good stuff pooled in with the bad. If he were to share even a little of it, it would all come rushing out. It would overflow tea cups and saucers and spill onto the floor and drown them all. Suddenly he wouldn’t be himself anymore. People wouldn’t see him the same way. 

He would transform from sunshine into a natural disaster, and no one was ready for that. Least of all Victor himself. 

He smiled. “Just let figure skating’s most eligible bachelor have his secrets.”

Chris shook his head as he stepped into the bathroom, towel slung over his shoulder. “You so got laid.”

The sounds of the shower head coming to life effectively ended their conversation.

 

He was tired. That was the thought at the forefront of Victor’s mind, and it was a new problem for him. Generally, he was filled to the brim with boundless mental energy, but it had been zapped from him in a hurry. 

He blamed the traveling. After so many years of it, it seemed he’d be used to it, but the grogginess behind his eyes proved differently.

The heady high he’d felt at the bathhouse was gone. The feeling of his heart fluttering just under his throat was also missing. Now, the only thing Victor felt with intensity was tired. 

His phone buzzed twice.

A new email concerning business deadlines and a text from Yuuri waited on him. 

Deciding between the two was easy.

 

**Yuuri:** Sorry. I had to help wash bathrobes. So you made it okay?

 

**Victor:** Yes!! I think I was missed.

 

Victor threw his phone somewhere close to his pillow and mashed the heels of his hands into his eyes. It was barely 7 o’clock.

His eyes fluttered shut, and his consciousness drifted until his phone buzzed again. 

 

**Yuuri:** I’m sure you were. Glad to be back?

 

**Victor:** Of course!! My people need me. :)

 

**Yuuri:** I won’t keep you tied up. They need you after all. Have a good night, Victor.

 

**Victor:** Night Yuuriiii! <3<3

 

He typed another heart, decided it was too much, and settled for the two as he pressed send.

 

“So where were you this morning?” Chris called, voice muffled by water, walls, and doors. He was loud enough to be heard through all of it though.

Of course he was. 

“The train,” Victor called back. Vague answers were his favorite answers.

They were not Chris’s though. 

“The train tooooo?”

“Anywhere. I just wanted to get away.”

The water cut off, and Chris slung open the bathroom door. He emerged, buck-ass nude, from a cloud of steam. The single towel he’d brought with him was wrapped around his head. 

“I know I asked this yesterday, but are you sure you’re okay?” Chris, completely sincere, watched Victor. He waited for a reaction.

All Victor could offer was a laugh. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

“Maybe there’s something to it then.” Chris made no attempted at moving. Water was beginning to form a shallow pool at his feet.

Victor sat up and hoped the smile he wore looked natural. He hoped it didn’t look like it drained all the life out of him to muster up.

“I’m so happy it should be illegal.” Victor leaned back on his elbows. “Seriously. What have I got to complain about?”

“Sometimes you don’t need something to complain about to be unhappy.” Chris deliberately worked the towel through his hair to give his hands something to do. “Sometimes you’re just unhappy because,” he shrugged, “well I guess it’s just because you are. It even happens to me.”

Victor gasped. “To you?”

“I know!” Chris slung the towel backwards and multiple things crashed to the floor. Pretending not to notice, he wandered over to his wardrobe and finally spared Victor from the full frontal view. “I just want you to know I’m here to talk if you ever need it.”

“I appreciate it,” Victor said, and he sincerely did. He didn’t intend to take up on the offer, though. “But, I’m fine. Everyone is worried for nothing.”

Meeting Victor gaze from the corner of his eye, Chris nodded once. “I hope so.” He turned back to shift through his clothes, and Victor slid his elbows from underneath himself. The bed creaked when he fell. “Hey, I’m going out tonight, you wanna come?”

“Pass,” Victor waved a hand in the air.

“Still tired from all those,” Chris dropped the clothes he held and thrust his hips forward, “extra,“ thrust, “curricular,” thrust, “activities.”

“ _Goodnight, Chris_ ,” Victor practically shouted, rolling so that his back faced Chris’s side of the room.

Chis laughed until Victor was sure one of his lungs was prepared to collapse. Once fully dressed and halfway composed, Chris stepped out into the hallway. He had one foot out the door when he called out, “Night, Vic.”

The door slammed closed.

Victor slumped into his bed, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to find some rest.

It never came.

He tossed. Then he turned. Then he tossed again for good measure. He ripped the blankets off the bed. He laid on his stomach. He dangled over the edge of his bed. He did push ups until his arms gave out, his heart pounded angrily against his ribs and blood rushed through his veins. But, nothing helped. Something heavy was settling in his chest and it made breathing feel like a chore.

It made Victor feel helpless, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

That just wasn’t in his nature. 

At just before midnight, Victor finally gave into the restlessness and pulled his shoes on. He yanked his phone off its charger, shrugged on a jacket, looped a bag across his shoulders and made a beeline for the hotel’s exit. The whole place felt suffocating.

 

When his feet met the concrete, Victor took off running. There was only one place worth going when he needed to clear his head: the training rink.

It was strange how something could bring him so much joy and so much grief without changing at all. Again, Victor was sure he was born with a defect.

It was making itself known now. 

Victor set a relentless pace. His legs burned and his eyes stung in the harsh cold; he didn’t tear up though. His lungs screamed and his brain felt like it was blazing. 

Cars whirred past him. Pedestrians mingled and paid him no mind as he raced past. The freedom was exhilarating. A life before all eyes were on him was something Victor had forgotten, now though, he thrived in it. 

To be another face in the crowd, to be a person no one expected anything from, it was nice. It was selfish.

Who was he kidding? He was selfish. 

There was only one person he was willing to share his selfish moment with, so he called Yuuri the moment he stepped inside the rink. 

The line rang twice. 

“Victor?” Yuuri answered. In the quiet, Yuuri’s voice boomed. Victor heard his name resounding off the walls and it sounded something like cheering. His mouth rested in a small smile.

“Hi, Yuuri! It’s me!” 

When Yuuri spoke, his voice filled the room with something warm and comfortable. The feeling was palpable. The meaning of the word home. Meanwhile, Victor gave himself a headache with all his audible exclamation points. 

Yuuri laughed. It was soft; it was genuine. “You’re so full of energy it’s kind of amazing.”

Victor snorted and sat his phone down while he pulled his skates from his bag. “It’s a quality you have to have with my job.”

For a while, Yuuri said nothing. When he did decide to speak, he just hummed. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Yuuri said so quickly he fumbled over the words. “I was just thinking it must be tiring.” he laughed, “but, then there’s you. Always…”

“Always?”

“Vibrant.”

“Ah.”

He didn’t feel vibrant. Instead, he felt like he wanted to escape his own skin. 

But, hey.

No one needed to know that.

There was a beat of silence that Victor broke. 

“I’m actually about to skate for a bit.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go.” Victor heard Yuuri fumbling, struggling to pick up his phone.

“Actually,” Victor turned his camera on, “I was gonna get you to skate with me.”

Another pause. Yuuri’s phone camera blinked to life, and he looked very, adorably, confused. “What?”

“I know you rejected me; I remember and it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, eyebrows still knit together and mouth tilted downward. “I’m still not sure what you mean though.”

“Well,” Victor took careful strides to the edge of the ice. Blades scraped the surface, and he felt some of the heaviness in his chest lift.“I suppose I’ll be doing the skating while holding you here,” Victor looked directly in the camera, “because I was rejected.”

“I’m sorry!”

Victor smirked and glided around a few laps. His hair blew into his face, and Victor nearly slipped trying to knock it back into place. Yuuri laughed. The world tilted. 

“What kind of skating do you do, Yuuri?” Victor asked, mouthful of hair and heart vacant of cares to give. At least Yuuri seemed to be enjoying his unending struggle.

“I don’t skate anymore,” Yuuri reminded him, propping his chin in his palm. 

“I’ll change that, just you wait.” Victor pushed himself into the air, spun once, and landed soundly. Even separated by walls of glass screens and fuzzy pixels, Yuuri’s smile was still dazzling. 

“We’ll see, I guess. Figure skating, by the way.”

“Yuuri!” Victor chided, “you can’t tell me you know how to figure skate and then refuse to skate with me! I mean _me_ of all people!”

Yuuri huffed quietly and moved in his seat. Victor couldn’t quite tell how he was seated, but he knew it certainly didn’t look comfortable. “I know. Younger me would probably beat me up if he knew.”

“Younger me would be heartbroken to know he’s been rejected twice in one day,” Victor pouted.

“Victor,” Yuuri began, “current you looks just as heartbroken.”

“I _know!_ ” He wailed and skidded to a halt. “I’m a broken man.”

“Sorry.” The glint of amusement in his eyes said otherwise. 

“I don’t know why I put up with this abuse.”

“I don’t either,” Yuuri said suddenly looking unsure of himself. This was the part where Victor was itching to hug him again. He wanted to hold on and hold on and hold on until they were both okay.

Knowing it wasn’t a possibility, he shoved the thought from his mind and barred the doors to refuse it reentry. 

“I think you’re worth it,” Victor tried to sound casual with his heart clawing its way up his esophagus. 

It was Yuuri’s turn to snort. “How disappointed do you think I’m going to be when I wake up?”

“Sorry?” Victor kicked himself back into motion.

“I mean there’s no way this is actually happening. Just you in general. Talking to me and visiting me and,” he sighed, “I’m not convinced I’m actually awake.”

“Have you tried pinching yourself?”

“Many times.”

“Well,” Victor said, “I think it’s scientifically proven that you’re awake then.” Victor embarked on completing a series of small jumps while Yuuri mulled it over.

“So you double as a scientist?”

“I dabble,” Victor flashed a grin and Yuuri’s tight lipped smile broke into a fit of giggles. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

_Keep a stable mood_ , his brain said. _Appreciate the good life. Enjoy popularity. Be a good role model. Talk to you without fearing I might die of a heart attack._ Victor shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I didn’t think so.”

 

The time was well past two in the morning when Victor began packing up his things. Skates went in his bag and his jacket was shrugged back over his shoulders. Yuuri waited silently.

They walked together under the moonlight. Yuuri, though miles away, was still there with him. That feeling of freedom still remained when he was hidden in the pitch black of night. 

They talked about the weather, the stars, and upcoming figuring skating events. 

Yuuri asked if he was ready.

Victor said yes and he wasn’t. 

Yuuri asked if he’d thought about retirement. Not that he should, he was quick to add. 

Victor said no, and again it was a lie. 

Truth be told it scared him shitless. He was starting to dread the limelight, but had no idea how he’d survive without it.

What was he going to do when he retired? Where was there to go except lower and lower until he hit rock bottom?

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri said. It was soft. Gentle.

“Yeah?” Victor still didn’t have a tight grasp on the concept of whispering, but he’d come pretty damn close. 

“It’s been a really amazing day.”

“Yeah,” Victor agreed.

Victor had forgotten that hearts could smile. This was a nice reminder. 

 

Chris was waiting for Victor, ready to pounce as soon as the door cracked open. And pounce he did. Victor didn’t stand a chance as he pushed the door open and slid his phone in his pocket, completely unaware. 

“Victor, where the hell have you been?” Chris could sound surprisingly motherly when he wanted to. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here so early,” Victor said, tone casual as he shrugged out of his coat. Diversion, diversion, diversion. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you not to be here so late.” Arms folded and lips pouted, this was Chris’s stern look.

“I went out to get some air,” Victor smiled, “this room gets stuffy, have you noticed?”

Eyes followed Victor across the room as he made his way to his bed. The blankets were strewn across the floor. It was evidence of his fight with restlessness. 

The restlessness had clearly won. 

“Where did you really go?”

“The rink. You know I can’t stay away for a day. I have to keep my form up.”

“Who were you on the phone with?”

“What?”

“I heard you in the hall. And don’t say something like your parents, because really? How stupid do you think I am?”

Victor stayed silent.

“You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know your answer,” Chris said, “it’ll only hurt my feelings.”

Victor chuckled and chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Probably.”

“I know you want to have your secrets, and that’s fine. It’s whatever. It’s,” he exhaled and studied the carpet. “It’s kind of bothering me, honestly.”

“Because you want to be in on the gossip?”

“Well, duh. You know me. But, I also know you. And I know something isn’t right.”

Victor weighed his options. The secret with the least repercussions was the one that had to go. 

The air between them was dense and hard to breathe. “I’ve been trying out that whole friends thing.”

“Victor!” Chris propelled himself across the room and caught Victor in his arms. He squeezed until they both had trouble breathing and even still refused to let go. “That’s amazing! Who? Tell me about them. Are they cute? Are they here? Let me get my coat.”

“He’s not here, no,” Victor admitted. Chris, understandably, was visibly confused. 

“How’d you meet then?”

“You remember that drunk phone call from a few nights ago?” 

Jaw unhinged and eyes wide, Chris gasped. “Shut. Up.” 

Victor nodded.

“What?!” Chris threw his arms in the air. “This is like a movie! That’s where you went earlier!”

Again, Victor nodded.

“You know,” Chris said, now pacing, “I think when I retire I’m gonna be a matchmaker.”

“I think your definition of ‘friend’ is drastically different than everyone else’s.”

“They’re just missing out on the true power of friendship.” Chris winked, and seeing as he had no grounds to stand on for an argument, Victor shrugged.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Apparently finished with pacing, Chris fell heavily on the bed and bounced his way over to Victor until they sat pressed against one another. “Soooo, what’s he like?” Victor felt Chris nudging his elbow between his ribs. 

“Nice enough that he has me rethinking the no-friends policy.”

“Unbelievably nice, then.” Chris’s head fell to the side, “is that why you’ve been so glum?”

“I haven’t been glum,” Victor laughed and pushed himself away from his friend’s side. 

Chris cleared his throat. “I think your definition of ‘glum’ is drastically different than everyone else’s.”

“Not possible,” Victor argued, “I’m happy as a clam.”

Deciding to choose his battles wisely, Chris let this one go. “Well, I, for one, am excited to meet this mystery man while I’m sober and he isn’t crying.”

Victor hit Chris with a skeptical look.

“Mostly sober,” Chris amended. “And probably not crying.”

“Wanna call and find out?”

“ _Yes._ ”

 

Truthfully, Victor was prepared to take any excuse to call Yuuri, and this just so happened to be a really, really good one. 

Chris never ran out of things to say, and Yuuri, though undoubtedly dog tired, listened with interest. Victor settled for watching Yuuri in silence. He liked the lopsided smile he seemed to wear as a default expression when he was tired. He let his glasses slip down his nose until they were on the brink of falling before pushing them back into place. The sweatshirt he wore had a neck made wide enough to slip over his shoulder; it advertised an American college that Victor had never heard of. 

He chewed his nailed when he got nervous or ran out of things to say.

Chris filled the silence.

Victor had lost count of the times Chris had said the word ‘cute’ and how many times Yuuri stumbled over words and studied his desk in response. Far too many.

This was just how Chris communicated. Victor knew better than anyone. So, Chris kept talking, Yuuri kept nodding along, and Victor kept staring so blatantly he knew he should be ashamed. 

It was a nice thing they had going until Yuuri started dozing. Chris retired from the call and sauntered towards the hallway saying something about snacks and bathroom breaks.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered and got no reaction. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri groaned. It was something to work with. 

“Yuuri, you need to lay down. Sleeping at a desk is bad for your back.”

Yuuri grumbled something incomprehensible and Victor leaned in towards the camera. “You’re going to have a grandpa back.”

“Your fault,” Yuuri muttered.

“I won’t carry you around when you can’t stand up and walk.”

“You will,” Yuuri fired back, and Victor was sure he had no idea what he was saying.

“You’re probably right,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri smiled and hummed. 

It was hard not to feel just as content watching him. 

 

Yuuri was the first to hang up, leaving them to say goodbye to each other for the fourth time that day. It still kinda sucked. 

Thankfully, though, Victor found that sleep came easier this time around. 

He was warm.

Everything was okay.

Everything was okay.

Everything was okay.

Hand wrapped tight around his phone, he pulled it in close and allowed sleep to pull him under. 

 

He dreamt of his future and for the first time it didn’t scare him awake. Also, for the first time, Yuuri was a co-star in the production.

Perhaps they correlated.

Perhaps he was in too deep.

Or, perhaps it was a complete coincidence.

Either way, Victor relished in the feeling and subconsciously vowed to keep Yuuri around for however long the other man could bear.

The dreamer in him hoped for forever. The man in him knew he would settle for any amount of time Yuuri gave him.

A giddy feeling pushed at the weight in his gut, and when he woke he felt a hundred pounds lighter. When he stood, there was a spring in his step and his head was lodged somewhere in Cloud 9.

He bid everyone good morning and earned a few groggy “morning”s in return. Yuri only glared at him, and Victor was pretty sure he heard a hiss as he walked away.

Once he’d finished his lap around their hotel floor, he sprang back into his bed, unlocked his phone, and called Yuuri. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor visits Yuuri again because surviving without him turns out to be a lot harder than originally speculated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello!! i hope you enjoy the chapter (it took a long time to write. why??? i don't know) and have a wonderful week!

Victor wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting. After having kept Yuuri up until 3 in the morning, it was cruel to call only three hours later. But, the good vibes were rolling off him and he literally could not contain his energy; he had an even harder time controlling his impulses. 

The line rang off the hook until finally it was time for Yuuri’s voicemail to take him away. When the line picked up, though, it wasn’t his voicemail that answered.

“Victor.” Yuuri’s room was pitch black with the exception of the insistent sun poking its head through his curtains. Victor could make out Yuuri’s silhouette and the light glinting off his crooked glasses but little else. “Why do you hate me?”

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

“If you can call it good,” he said before breaking into a massive yawn.

“I might even venture out and call it great.”

Yuuri laughed and fell onto his back. His voice scratched the back of his throat and came out groggy and slurred. “Did you even sleep?”

“Yes! Very well, believe it or not,” Victor gave the camera a thumbs up despite knowing Yuuri was already falling back asleep. 

“I think I believe it,” Yuuri mumbled into his pillow. He was clearly uninterested in the waking world. Of course, that didn’t stop Victor from honing in on his full annoyance capabilities. 

“ _Victor,_ ” a familiar, aggressive voice shouted and it served as a warning before the door to his room swung violently open and crashed against the wall. Yuuri jolted upright, which Victor, accustomed to Yuri and his brash nature, only moved his gaze up from his phone. 

“Good morning, Yuri!” Victor said in greeting. He’d already told Yuri good morning twice; that’s how firmly he believed it truly was good.

Yuri, eyes on fire, slammed the door closed. “ _Why_ are you being so god damn loud? How many times will I have to tell you to shut _up_ before this stupid trip is over?” His eyes flicked down to the phone; Yuuri had since started dozing. “Who the hell are you talking to?” He stepped closer and it looked like a threat. Victor was completely unaware of it. Chin hovering just over Victor’s shoulder, Yuri clicked his tongue. “Who’s the kid?”

“Sometimes I think you forget how old you are,” Victor said in an audible smile.

He got a slap to the back of the head and another aggressive tongue click for his quip. Victor laughed and pressed a hand to the back of his head, “everyone keeps doing that.”

“Probably because you’re annoying.”

Victor nodded.

“And a moron.”

“Rude,” Victor gasped, and Yuri pinned him with an exasperated side eye.

“It’s too early for this,” Yuri said as he shoved past Victor, bumping his shoulder as he went. “I just came to tell you to shut up.”

“As always, I’ve enjoyed your company, Yuri!” The slamming door came as a response, and Victor dropped the hand he was joyfully waving. “Ah.”

As if on cue, Chris poked his head out of their shared bathroom. This time he’d remembered to bring two towels. “What was that about?”

Waving his hand through the air dismissively, Victor ended the call with Yuuri and tucked the phone beneath his legs. “Yuri is in one of his better moods.”

“Huh,” Chris said, eyes falling on the closed door and then finding their way back to Victor as he fully stepped out of the bathroom. The room was suddenly terribly humid. Victor felt his hair frizzing by the second. Amazingly, Chris managed to look stunning as always. “Well, it’s shaping up to be a good day already in that case.”

“Absolutely.” Victor beamed. Someone else finally agreed, so Victor could say he was fully pleased. 

 

Victor and Chris ran to the practice rink. What had initially began as a friendly jog turned into a full on race to the finish. With a mile to go, Victor stopped feeling his legs. His knees no longer existed and he was relatively sure his ankles had been crushed in the power of his footfalls. His lungs were threatening to explode. The brisk morning air burned his throat and eyes, and he was sure his hair looked somewhere between electrocuted and wind blown. 

Chris, thankfully, was looking to be in the same state. He kept a cocky smile but his eyes screamed for help. They both had a hunger for victory and bragging rights, so, heads down and resolves resolute, they pushed forward.

Only to have Mila elbow her way between the two of them.

She won by a landslide, and Georgi served as her one man crowd, whooping and applauding with vigor. He’d been the smartest of their group when he decided to just take a taxi. Yuri, falling behind all the rest of them, looked completely unimpressed at the display of Victor and Chris folded in on themselves on the cold cement. Their chests heaved, and Victor was almost sure he heard Chris crying. 

“Idiots,” Yuri muttered, kicking his way past and into the newly unlocked door. 

 

Yakov sat waiting on the inside, his face reflecting Yuri’s permanent mood. It was really no wonder why they got along so well. 

“So I see Victor has returned,” Yakov said. Admittedly, he didn’t sound thrilled about it.

“Of course! Was there ever any doubt?” Victor made up for his coach's lackluster tone by doubling up his cheer.

Yakov eyed him but said nothing; that was a clear enough answer in itself. Victor laughed until Yakov broke his silence with a growl.

“Just get your skates on, Vitya. Quickly.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Again, Yakov said nothing. Instead, he turned his back to Victor and walked toward the rink where the other had began to gather. 

Victor was quick to follow suit. 

 

Redemption. That was Victor’s only goal. After having soiled his last practice and made a complete laughing stock out of his skating capabilities in front of competitors and coach alike, there was no other option for him.

He skated hard. His landings were relentless, punctuated by the sound of metal attempting to crack ice. Shaved ice sprayed around his feet, his cheat heaved, his brow was dotted with sweat, and people observed with expressions that had somehow combined awe and concern.

The feeling scratching its way through his chest was nothing like the peace he’d felt the night before. Gliding along in darkness with only the sound of Yuuri’s voice to occupy his head had made skating fun again.

This practice wasn’t fun. It somehow felt like war.

War with himself. War with his rink mates who watched on with those expressions. War with Yakov who had lost all faith in him. 

When he was satisfied that he’d proved himself, Victor draped himself against the rink wall, chest heaving and with brows drawn together. His stare worked on melting the ice they stood on. From his peripheral, Victor could see Chris watching him. Not because he was a spectacle anymore but because he was worried.

It was annoying.

Victor wasn’t entirely sure when working became such a chore or when he began acting happy rather than being happy, but he was sure something had to change. Victor was goal oriented and siting and wallowing had never been an option. Nothing had changed.

The minute practice released, Victor was out the door. 

The sun was falling before his eyes as he strolled blindly through the streets. He only had one destination in mind and it looked a lot like the Hasetsu train station. Victor left his hotel miles behind him. The urge to look back wasn’t there at all. 

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said in lieu of hello the moment the other man answered the phone. 

“Victor?” Yuuri was clearly in public judging by the shrieking laughter in the background. “Are you okay? You hung up this morning.”

“I’m fine!” Victor laughed, nodding hellos to other commuters as he made room for himself on the train. “I just wanted to give you time to sleep is all.”

“Ah. Thank- hey, hey, hey! Be careful!” His voice drifted with distance and the same children screamed Yuuri’s name. Victor heard the distinct sound of blades scraping ice and Yuuri warning them to slow down. He also heard something about not intentionally pushing one another over and staying close to the wall. “Sorry,” Yuuri announced his reappearance. 

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” Victor mused, sitting stagnant as the others around him jerked forward when the train set into a forward motion. 

Yuuri sighed heavily. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Victor hummed. “We should do something fun.”

“When?”

Pulling his phone back, Victor checked the time. “How’s a half hour sound?”

Yuuri didn't offer a reply for a few torturous seconds. “I’ll be at work.”

“Text me the address.”

“Well…” Yuuri sounded lost in thought. “Yuko did want to meet you.”

“All the more reason, yes?”

“You pose a good argument,” Yuuri said, but he sounded pleased. “I’ll text you, but I have to go. The triplets are literally going to kill each other.”

“Oh! Triplets! A handful.”

“To put it mildly.” Victor heard unfiltered defeat in Yuuri’s voice. “See you soon then?”

“Absolutely! Look your best for me, Yuuri!”

Yuuri scoffed and hung up. 

Butterflies swarmed Victor’s stomach while the train raced to his destination. Victor was not a nervous person, and he couldn’t recall a single time he’d let his nerves get the better of him like this. Especially not concerning meeting up with a person he’d already met. 

Yuuri was proving to be a lot of firsts for Victor.

When the butterflies would try to calm down a new kaleidoscope of them would rise up, wings pounding furiously against Victor’s entire rib cage. When a text came through, his pulse kicked into overdrive.

It was Chris.

 

**Chris** : U okay? want to get some dinner tonite?

 

**Victor:** Can’t tonight!! I have plans sorry :(( Maybe tomorrow?

 

**Chris:** 2morrow is fine.. you’re ok right?

 

**Victor:** Peachy keen. I skated well today, yeah? I’m fine!

 

**Chris:** I’m not talking about skating.. i just mean in gneral

 

**Chris:** general

 

**Victor:** You worry too much. Go have fun and stop worrying about me!

 

**Chris:** Someone has to worry about you if u aren’t going to do it

 

**Chris:** See you tonite?

 

**Victor:** Definitely.

 

**Chris:** K. Don’t stay up 2 late with yuuri ;) ;) ;)

 

A few more messages came in with more winking messages, but the bombardment was broken up by Yuuri sending his work address.

When the fluttering feeling reached his chest Victor, overcome with welcome boldness, sent a few winking faces back to Chris.

He went wild. 

 

The number of passengers on the train was dwindling down to single digits before the Hasetsu stop came into view. Victor rushed to his feet and stood anxiously by the door, hopping out to freedom the moment the doors opened just enough to fit through. 

Victor didn’t use his phone GPS once, nor did he check the text containing the location. Instead, he relied on his impeccable social skills to get locals to guide him in the right direction. Undoubtedly, it took far longer this way, but that didn’t seem like a bad thing. It gave his nerves time to settle down and recollect themselves. They did not use the time wisely. 

Once he stood the walk that led to the Ice Castle’s door, Victor wiped his palms on his thighs, took in a steadying breath that wasn’t all that steadying, and strutted through the front door. 

“We close in ten minutes,” a young woman’s voice called from behind the counter when the door chimed. She was hidden behind racks of rental skates, standing on her toes and reaching far above her head adjusting boots into an upright position. 

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.” Victor rocked back onto his heels and slid his hands into his pockets.

Immediately, her head poked around the side of the racks, eyebrows drawn together and eyes questioning. The moment her gaze fixed on Victor, she dropped all the skates she held and very nearly toppled off the step stool she balanced on. 

She looked down to study her mess before slowly moving her eyes back up to meet Victor’s own. It was almost as if she believed that if she moved too fast, he would disappear. “Holy cow.”

“Hi!” Victor fanned his fingers out in a small wave. 

“It’s actually you!” She shrieked as she darted to the counter and leaned over it to get a better look. “He wasn’t kidding.” The girl hopped the counter with minimal effort and took his hand firmly in hers, shaking and shaking and shaking. “My name is Yuko. You’re Victor.”

“I’m Victor,” he confirmed. The handshake continued. 

“Like the Victor.”

“One of many, actually.”

Yuko snorted. “The only one that matters to Yuuri.”

Warmth spread through Victor’s chest and in his head he was beaming. He hoped on the outside he was more composed. 

Judging by the way Yuko’s smile grew, Victor doubted he looked collected at all. 

“I’ll show you where he is.” Yuko didn’t have time for trivial things like waiting for a response; instead, she grabbed onto his sleeve and hauled him forward. 

 

Only a thin sheet of glass separated Victor from Yuuri, and only one of them was completely unaware of the other’s presence. Yuuri was far too wrapped up in battling the triplets for dominance on the ice. Yuko sighed and propped her chin in her palm when she leaned closer to the window. 

“No one else has the energy to even begin controlling those kids,” she mused, “it makes him the perfect babysitter. Even I have a hard time, and I gave them life.” Yuko laughed and watched as they slid across the ice. Yuuri followed behind, patient as ever. “Sorry for dragging you here, by the way. His shift is almost over at least.”

Victor waved an absentminded hand, watching through the glass intently. “That’s okay. I have time.”

“I’m surprised you do,” she laughed, “with being an athletic super star and all.”

“I make time when I want to,” he replied. The words were curled around fond softness.

Yuko hummed. “Well, thank you for thinking he’s worth that time.” Her big eyes fell on him and Victor met them while sitting up straighter. “He is, you know. Worth your time.”

“I know.” Victor said.

Satisfied, she nodded. "I wish he did." 

Yuko went back to watching her kids fall over one another while Victor only had eyes for the way Yuuri threw his head back and clutched his stomach when he laughed. 

_Me too_ , Victor thought and punctuated it with an audible sigh. 

 

Yuko led Victor to the rink at exactly five o’clock, and Yuuri was too distracted with peeling his gloves off to notice. When he looked up, though, his jaw fell. 

“You came.”

“Everyone seems to be doubting me today. I’m hurt, honestly.”

“No, no! It’s not you personally it’s… me... personally.”

Victor made a dismissing sound and offered a hand to guide Yuuri off the rink. He didn’t need it, and he knew that. Yuuri also had to know, but he took Victor’s hand anyway. 

“I’m sweating again.” Yuuri announced as he pulled his hand away the moment he was on carpet. 

“If it helps, I came here immediately after practice. The glow you’re seeing?” Victor motioned to his face, “Is the result of an intense skin regimen and caked on sweat.”

Yuuri scrunched his nose and Victor laughed. “It’s impossible to look like _that_ and still be gross.”

“Look like what?” Victor smirked.

Yuuri paused and studied the carpet while he took small steps in the direction of a pile of duffel bags. “Nevermind.”

_“_ Aw.”

Yuuri glared from behind his glasses. It was completely ineffective. 

“So, I was thinking,” Victor prompted as he watched Yuuri tie his tennis shoes. 

Yuuri didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes and the fear rolling off of him was visible. Victor continued regardless. 

“Do you like trains?”

“I don’t hate them.” Yuuri’s answer was slow and lilted like a question. 

“Would you like to ride one?”

Yuuri looked up, elbows on knees. “Why” was written all over his face. 

“With me?”

“Where are we going?” Yuuri stood and gently looped the bag over his shoulder.

“Is it important?” Victor asked, holding the door and allowing Yuuri to leave first.

When Victor reappeared at Yuuri’s side, he shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Well that’s good.” Victor placed his hands back into his pockets, “because I have no idea where I want to go, but we have all night to get there.”

“Did you steal that from a movie?” Yuuri laughed and it was a sound that God himself waited anxiously to hear. 

Victor smiled. “Probably.”

“And here I thought you had a way with words.” Yuuri hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder and fell out of step with Victor as he strolled ahead.

“Not around you,” Victor muttered.

“Huh?” Yuuri spun around, pedaling backwards as they climbed hilly city sidewalks.

“I said of course I do,” Victor made a show out of winking and Yuuri rolled his eyes, turning back to face forward. An oversized grin stretched his face, and it was beautiful. 

 

Yuuri had his pick of seats on the train. The rush of after-work commuters had long passed before they made it to the station, and their car was close to empty when they stepped on. While others were dispersed throughout the front of the car, Yuuri gravitated towards the very back.

Victor sat close enough for their knees to bump when passengers were finished loading and the train began its journey. The proximity was completely unnecessary, but neither of them moved to make room. 

“Surprisingly, I think I like it better here than I do in the big cities.” Victor watched scenery pass in a blur of greens and oranges smeared against a hazy purple background. Their conversation has lapsed and Yuuri seemed startled back into reality by his voice.

“Really? Everyone seems to be itching to leave for the big cities.” Yuuri laced his fingers in his lap and twiddled his thumbs. 

Victor nodded. “I travel a lot. Always to big cities. Eventually they all start to feel the same. It gets boring. This,” he spread his arms, “this isn’t boring.”

Yuuri looked around the train car. Surrounded by the elderly, sleeping children, and equally tired parents distracting themselves on cell phones, it wasn’t the most exciting place to be for sure. Yuuri seemed to be thinking the same thing. Victor couldn’t put a finger on what made him so happy to be alive in this spot with these people in that moment, but that happiness still existed. 

Yuuri was quiet for a long while. He stared at the floor, and then the windows. He would glance at his phone and then go back to staring holes into the floor. 

“You’re thinking too hard, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked up wearing owl eyes.

“What are you thinking about?”

Clearing his throat, Yuuri sucked in a deep breath. “You’re different.”

Victor raised an eyebrow.

“You’re different than how I thought you’d be.”

Victor didn’t appreciate the feeling of deflating, but now it was coming in a wave. The disappointment was going to drown him. He’d thought of Yuuri as a friend, but Yuuri regarded him as a fan would. It was obvious. Victor kicked himself for not realizing it past his own infatuation. 

“I’m sorry,” he smiled, a poor attempt at being bright. 

“Why?” Yuuri’s head fell to the side quizzically. “I like this version of you. The Victor who likes train rides with no destinations and who makes surprise visits while caked in sweat and who likes silly, small towns that only have a single bath house to offer and who calls crying strangers at three in the morning and tries to make sure they’re okay is a Victor more people should get to know.”

Victor realized it was his turn to stare at the floor. 

“I was intimidated, y’know, when I first learned who you were. I think I almost had a heart attack when you came to visit.” Yuuri paused to mull over his words. He stared out the window across the way. “I think I’m still learning that you’re just a person, but I like who you are. As a person. And not as a celebrity on a poster in my room.”

“Quite a few posters.”

Yuuri groaned, and his head thudded against the window when it fell back. “We don’t talk about it.”

Victor laughed and watched their knees as they fell together on the rocky tracks. “The celebrity on the posters is supposed to be more likable.”

Yuuri, head still pressed against the glass, looked at Victor. “Why can’t Victor the celebrity be the same as Victor the person?”

Wearing a wry smile, Victor shrugged. “I think Victor the person doesn’t know who Victor the person is.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t have time to think about it. It doesn’t matter much.”

Yuuri frowned. “I think you’re wrong.”

“You’ve told me that a lot.”

“Maybe you’re wrong a lot.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “So-“

“Don’t apologize,” Victor nudged him. 

Yuuri smiled. “You should let people get to know Victor the person when you learn who he is.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my celebrity status like that,” Victor said.

“You don’t make it sound like a bad thing.”

Victor fell into silence, but he offered a nod. “Maybe not.”

 

“I was in middle school with him,” Yuuri said when the doors opened a few passengers trickled in. Only one of them was a young man, Victor watched as he found a seat. 

“He’s not bad to look at, huh?” Victor wiggled his eyebrows and Yuuri snorted. 

“I guess so,” he said. “I tried to help him with English when we were first learning it.” Solemnly, he shook his head. “I tried.”

“I speak a few languages,” Victor said, “English was no friend of mine either.”

“Going to the States left me with no choice. Either learn the language or never know where the bathroom is.”

“What a terrible life that would be.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Hey,” Victor jabbed Yuuri with an elbow, “that lady.”

Yuuri’s eyes followed Victor’s line of sight. 

“She’s got money.”

“How do you figure?”

“Her coat. I looked at it for myself once. It’s got a hefty price tag.”

Yuuri studied the woman quietly, lips pressed together. “That’s too bad. It would be a nice look for you.”

Victor laughed. “I didn’t say I didn’t get it. I look great in it, by the way.”

“Maybe you two could be friends.”

“Mm,” Victor examined her in consideration, “I think two fashionistas can’t coexist.”

“That’s a shame.”

“There isn’t enough of me to go around, anyway. I’m spread thin with my one non-work related friend.”

“He must be terribly high-maintenance.”

“I think it’s the other way around, actually,” Victor said. 

“He probably doesn’t mind.”

“I certainly hope not, because I cling like a leech.”

“He’s lucky for it.”

Victor cracked a smile and moved just a smudge closer. “Of course he is. I’m great.”

“He changed his mind.”

There were a few seconds of elapsed time before they reluctantly made eye contact and the hysterics erupted out of them both. 

 

Victor made a point to call Yuuri at least twice a day, and everyone who practiced with him knew about it. Eventually, they all made a point of making themselves known to Yuuri. 

They were overwhelming and brilliant and Yuuri liked them all. Somehow, he’d even managed to warm up to Yuri though the feelings weren’t mutual. 

Victor visited Hasetsu multiple times every week until he was on a first name basis with Yuuri’s parents and the posters plastered on Yuuri’s walls were close to being filled with kind notes and sloppy signatures.

Somehow, despite all the time spent together, the conversations never ran out.

Yuuri was filled to the brim with stories about his family, the triplets, the bath house, and Yuko. Victor talked for days about his travels, career, and childhood that led him to his current position. 

“Have you seriously never been to an amusement park?” Yuuri asked once in the dead of night. Victor watched as the clock on his nightstand flipped past midnight. 

“Not once,” Victor said, “I’ve watched YouTube videos though.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Is this you saying I have to go?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Will you be there?”

“If you want me there,” Yuuri said. Victor could’ve been imagining it but it almost sounded sheepish. 

“Of course I do!” Chris hissed a loud ‘ _sh_ ’ and Victor apologized reluctantly, only lowering his voice ever so slightly. “Of course I do,” Victor repeated. “It’d be fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispered and followed it with a yawn.

“We should both be sleeping,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri huffed a laugh. Blankets ruffled near the phone. “I’m trying.”

“Ugh, I know.” Victor flopped onto his back. “Okay, okay. Ready to make a deal?”

Yuuri groaned which was close enough to a yes. 

“If you come visit me tomorrow, I’ll let you sleep now.”

“I work late.”

“You can stay here! Chris will even sleep in the floor or sleep with you. Or you can sleep with me.” Victor’s faced burned. His heart raced. “You can come watch us train the day after. Then you can show me around town because I’m lost here.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Absolutely. Your choices are ‘yes’ or ‘I’d love to.’”

Yuuri hummed in faked contemplation. “I’m gonna have to say I’d love to.”

“Final answer?”

“See you tomorrow, Victor.”

“Yeah,” Victor wore an undeniable smile that was bordering on being embarrassing. “See you then.”

“Goodnight.”

“This is the best night,” Victor said, and the call ended. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Victor and Chris bonding time.  
> Also Victor has an earth shattering realization that is earth-shattering to only him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five day turnaround time!! Nice!  
> Comments, kudos, and tumblr messages are all greatly appreciated if you have the time and or dedication. Thanks for reading! :)

Victor stared at the ceiling, and when he grew bored of that he stared at the window. Soon, rolling onto his other side and watching Chris sleep became his only source of entertainment. Eventually, Victor went back to staring down the ceiling. Restlessness was gnawing at him, and sleep refused to come to him as morning light broke through the night and glared right into his eyes through the thin hotel blinds. 

Low on options and patience, Victor kicked his blankets off, opted for a speedy shower, dressed post-haste, and, with his gear bag thrown over his shoulder, left for the practice rink. There was a single car there that Victor recognized just by a glance.

Yakov was standing outside, cigarette clenched between his lips, and Victor seemed to be the person he was waiting for. He didn’t bother looking up when Victor’s footsteps approached him. 

“Hi!” Victor all but shouted. “You look dazzling this morning.”

Yakov peered up from behind the brim of his hat, and a hazy film of smoke obscured his view. Victor fanned it away. “You’re never going to quit are you?” He sighed.

“How could I when I have to deal with you on a daily basis?”

Victor knew he should’ve been hurt, instead he laughed. “You do it well.”

Yakov grunted and turned to unlock the door. 

“You didn’t come here this early just to hear my compliments though.” Victor hung his coat while his coach ventured further inside to flip light switches. 

“Vitya, if I could never hear another one of your compliments for the rest of my days, I would be a happy man.”

Victor smirked and navigated a cluster of tables. A coffee maker sat in a lonely corner with only styrofoam cups and a sad sink as company, and Victor had his eyes on it. “You truly know how to boost my ego.”

“It is my only purpose in life,” Yakov said as he removed his hat and fell into the nearest chair. 

Humming, Victor dumped freshly brewed black coffee into two cups and slid one across the table, taking a seat across from Yakov. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Victor stared into his coffee while Yakov stared through him. “You come here often?” Victor asked finally. 

Yakov broke into a reluctant smile. “More often than you, I’m afraid.” 

Victor’s brow wrinkled. “I’ve only missed one practice.”

“Physically, yes.”

“What are you getting at?” Victor asked, pinching styrofoam between his fingers. “Because everyone seems to think something is wrong with me and I’m not sure how many times I’m going to have to say I’m fine before it’s believable.” He took a wobbly breath in and it shook just as much on the way out. “Sorry.”

Yakov didn’t acknowledge the apology. “Ever since we landed here, you’ve been mentally absent. You haven’t been yourself.”

“First of all, by your standards I’ve always been mentally absent. Secondly, I think the opposite is true.” Victor leaned back in his seat. “I think that ever since we landed here, I’ve been finding myself. Maybe I’m just not who everyone expect me to be.” He paused. “Or wanted me to be.”

Yakov regarded him evenly. “You know who you are.”

“I thought so too,” Victor smiled and it was strained. His eyes crested over taught cheeks. “I think I may have been wrong. Recently, I’ve learned that I’m wrong quite a bit.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Yakov crossed his arms over his chest.

“Honestly though, when have I ever listened to you?”

“I’m led to believe you’ve never heard a single word I’ve ever said to you.”

Victor huffed and leaned his elbows onto the table. “I’ve learned over the past 16 years that things are easier that way.”

“16 years,” Yakov pondered, eyes fixed on something distant.

“Feeling old yet?” Victor asked.

“If anyone should be feeling old, it’s you, Victor.”

Victor sighed and, though he really didn’t want to, he nodded. “I’m trying to make the most of it.”

“I don’t think that will be possible if you don’t practice the way you should.”

There wasn’t a pleasant way to mention that the thought made his chest ache and stomach burn. Instead, he nodded along. “I have to go out with a bang, yeah?”

“That’s the mentality of the Victor Nikiforov I know. You still have a few solid years left in you.”

Victor tried to sip his coffee, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He pushed himself out of his seat and dumped it all down the drain. “Yeah, hopefully,” he said, but his tone was stale. 

Yakov rose, cup in hand, and strode towards the rink. 

Conversation over. 

“Good talk,” Victor muttered to himself as he tossed his cup. “Good talk.”

 

Skaters stumbled inside in staggered pairs and small groups. Victor didn’t recognize most of them, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Sometimes he just had a really terrible memory.

“Victor!” An unmistakable, Swiss accent laden voice shouted from the door. Everyone inside halted and stared. Chris marinated in the attention, completely unfazed by all eyes landing on him. “You escaped early this morning,” his voice was back to a conversational tone. People dispersed, suddenly bored. “Scared you were going to lose another race?”

“First of all,” Victor said, scraping his way to a complete stop inches from the rink wall, “I didn’t lose. And secondly, I can’t help that I’m more dedicated to practice than you are. Why do you think I’m always first on the podium?” 

Chris snorted and rested his arms flat against the wall, leaning his weight onto them. He looked up at Victor through his lashes. “That would be luck, my friend.”

Victor raised a speculative eyebrow but said nothing else about the matter. “I’ve got exciting news.”

Eyes sparking to life, Chris gained some height by propping his weight onto his elbows. “What?”

“Yuuri’s coming to visit.”

Chris slammed his hands on the wall, and, again, eyes from every direction zeroed in on them. “I get to meet him, right?”

“We live together so-”

“Oh!” Chris interrupted, eyebrows shooting up and sly grin in place. “So he’s coming home with you. “Don’t worry, I’ll just sleep with Georgi.”

“Absolutely not,” said a voice that echoed across the ice. 

“I’ll seduce him into it, don’t you worry about that.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Yes, he is staying the night. No, it’s not because of what you’re thinking. Stop looking at me like that.”

Chris took no initiative to stop looking at him like that. His smile only grew wider. Suddenly, Victor understood why green-eyed people were seen as devious. It was all Chris’s fault. “Victor.” Chris raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t.”

“Victor,” Chris whispered, “you’re gonna get laid.”

“Oh my God.” Victor pushed himself away from the wall. “You’re uninvited. You’re never going to meet him ever.”

Chris’s laughter rebounded off the walls of the rink and bounced along the ice. It was inescapable and infectious. Yuri shouted to shut up the moment he arrived, and it only encouraged Chris to be louder. He waved his hand in the air as he walked back to change into his skates. “I’m coming anyway.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Victor called.

Chris blew a kiss Victor’s way and kept walking. 

“You two are disgusting,” Yuri remarked as he made his way to the rink. 

“You’re invited to come too, if you like.” Victor smiled.

Yuri made a disgusted noise that said “never in your wildest dreams” and he skated swiftly away, making a point to avoid Victor for the rest of practice. To anyone else it may have been hurtful, but Victor found it to be a show of their friendship, unique as it was. 

It was strangely nice. 

 

The moment Yakov released their oversized group from practice, Chris had Victor by the sleeve dragging him outside. “Let’s go!” He said, skipping up the bustling street while balancing both his and Victor’s bag on his shoulder. After a few excited and bouncy minutes, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait, where are we going again?”

Victor snorted. “You never gave me a chance to tell you.”

“You normally don’t wait for a chance to speak,” Chris said, continuing his walk despite being completely directionless. “You just speak.” 

“I’ve grown up,” Victor said. “I’ve matured.”

“Pff,” Chris regarded him over his shoulder, “when did this turn into a comedy show?” 

Victor glared with no malice. Passerby waved at them as they walked through the city, and Chris, a sucker for attention, stopped to make small talk with all of them. Victor, being someone rarely outshone, did the same as they continued on. “You used to be nicer, you know.”

“Back when I idolized you,” Chris nodded, “but as it turns out you’re pretty lame, and I can safely assume that I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. So, my true colors can shine now.”

“They’re terrible,” Victor said.

“You say the sweetest things. Now where are we meeting your other half?”

Victor cast a sidelong gaze that Chris returned while sporting a cheeky grin. “Don’t try to deny it,” Chris said when Victor opened his mouth. “Can you even argue it? He might even be giving _me_ competition for the best thing that ever happened to you. _Me_ , Victor.”

“Truly unbelievable,” Victor said. “And the train station. But, if we leave now we may be waiting for a while.” Victor checked the time on his phone. “He said he had to work late.”

“That just means you get to spend more quality time with me,” Chris said, spinning a 180 to head in the direction of the station. “I can’t see a single thing wrong with that.”

“You wouldn’t,” Victor said stepping in tune with Chris and earning a shove to the side. Victor stumbled. Once he regained his footing he came crashing back into Chris, sending them both sailing through a throng of people and into a brick faced building. 

“I’m gonna push you into the road,” Chris laughed as he shrugged his jacket back into place and bumped hips with Victor to set them both back into motion. The upcoming Spring was promising to be warm, yet Chris insisted on wearing his coat.

He defended it by saying it was part of his outfit. Everyone who knew him knew better than to mess with his fashion, so it was left alone. 

 

“So why did you leave early this morning?” Chris asked once they’d sat down and had nothing but time to kill. He’d managed to find a small snack stand upon arrival at the station and now sat amidst a sea of sweets and hot drinks. 

Victor shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nerves?”

“I guess so.” Victor reached for one of Chris’s cups and took a sip from it. It was scorching hot and terribly bitter. His lip curled and he coughed all while feeling his tongue shrivel up and die. “I don’t suggest that one,” he said, sliding it closer to Chris’s seat and choosing a new one to steal.

Chris laughed and allowed it. “Can’t take a strong drink? You’re kind a poor excuse for a Russian, you know.”

Victor lifted a new cup to his lips and locked eyes with Chris over the rim of it. “I can’t help that I don’t prefer to drink battery acid.”

Seemingly taking it as a challenge, Chris took the cup, lifted it in the air, and took a swig. The end result was an ugly coughing fit and the cup of rancid liquid finding its way into the closest bin. “Oh my God,” he sputtered through coughs, “that’s straight up jet fuel. Yakov would love it.”

Victor found himself frowning suddenly. “Yeah, he probably would.”

The glass doors leading to the loading platform opened, and people flooded the lobby while another wave loaded onto the train. Victor watched them all come and go. Watching strangers hug family and kiss loved ones in greeting was something he’d watched so many times he expected the dull ache of yearning to wear away. It never did.

He was more than sad. He was jealous.

Chris didn’t seem to notice the crowd as he kept his eyes on Victor. 

“I know what you’re about to ask, and I’d like for you not to,” Victor said, returning his attention to Chris and his multitude of drinks, “I’m fine.”

Nodding, Chris dropped his gaze to his hands where they wrapped around a nearly empty cup. The lobby they were in had become colder as people left and the sun dropped significantly until the sky was streaked with purples and blues that bled into black at the edges. 

“I know you’re not always happy,” Chris said to the table, “no one is. But I’m worried that you’re happy less frequently than you used to be.”

Victor pressed his lips into a hard line and busied his fingers with an empty candy wrapper that Chris has discarded. An intercom announced that the train outside was preparing to depart. A new one would arrive in half an hour. 

Realizing that Chris wasn’t going to fill the silence, Victor finally shrugged. “I think I’m just moody,” Victor laughed and it was a sad sound. “I always have been.”

Chris shook his head in response. “You’ve never been moody, and you aren’t now. You were always energetic, and sure that goes away with age, but this is different.”

“When did you become a therapist?” Victor asked, kicking at Chris under the table.

Chris threw his hands up. “I know I’m not the best at this,” he said, “but I’ve just been noticing some things.”

“Such as?” Victor humored him.

“You sleep less. You also eat less. When you practice, you look like you might go on a rampage or cry. When I mentioned Yakov just now, you looked like I just told you that you could never see Makkachin again.”

Victor gasped and offered an exaggerated frown.

“That’s the exact face,” Chris said, pointing a finger right between Victor’s eyes. “But, I’ve noticed something else.”

Victor nodded for him to continue.

“I’ve noticed that Yuuri makes you light up like Christmas. When you’re on the phone with him you’re constantly blushing. Also laughing. Seriously, I’ve been sleeping less because of it don’t even begin to deny it. I know first hand,” he collected a large breath and continued, “when you come back from visiting him, you have a million stories to tell and you have stars in your eyes while you tell them. When you talk about him, you _glow_. Have you considered that you might have a bit of a crush?”

“We’re friends,” Victor said. “So, no.”

Chris nodded. “Does he know that? Because I think the crush might be mutual.”

“There is no crush.”

Humming, Chris knocked his knuckles against the table top. “If you’re going to lie to me, Victor, try not to be so obvious about it.”

“You’re impossible,” Victor said, watching the clock with brimming anticipation. 

“You should take a look in the mirror,” Chris said, twisting in his seat to get a look at what Victor had spotted. “Almost time for him to be here?”

“I haven’t heard from him,” Victor admitted, sparing a quick look at his phone, “but I’m hopeful.”

“It suits you,” Chris said.

“What?”

“Being hopeful. Makes you look more like the Victor I know.”

Victor smiled and it was tight lipped because he had to agree. It was a feeling that felt like home. These were the moments he felt like the Victor he used to know as well. “I’ll work on it,” Victor said. 

Chris waved the promise away. “I think that if you keep Yuuri around, there won’t be anything to work on. He’s good for you. I was serious about being a matchmaker, y’know, after retirement.”

“And I was serious when I said we were friends. Then and now.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “And you said _my_ definition of friendship was skewed.”

“Agree to disagree,” Victor said.

“Not a chance.”

“Again I say, you’re impossible.”

“Impossibly charming.”

“I was thinking more impossibly annoying.”

Chris considered it. “You got me there.”

 

As it turned out, Yuuri’s train was not the next one. Chris didn’t seem too bothered by it though. He’d made a game out of tossing empty wrappers into a bin that was filling up by the minute as Victor kept score. They had missed their morning run, but they made up for it by running laps around the parking lot until Chris called mercy and retired back inside for more coffees. There was only one instance of nearly being hit by a parking car, so overall it had been far less traumatizing than their first race to the rink. 

They’d settled back into their original table when Yuuri finally called. Victor nearly fell out of his seat scrambling for the device as Chris watched with cheeks stuffed full of snacks and face alight with glee. 

With arms outstretched across the table, the camera angle was just wide enough to capture both him and Chris. He answered, attempting to seem as casual as possible. 

“Hello, Yuuri!” Victor found it hard to speak past the big smile he wore.

Chris reclined back in his chair, feet propped in Victor’s lap. He offered a wave. “Hi!”

“You’ve kept us waiting,” Victor chided with a jutting lower lip. Chris nodded dramatically.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Yuuri said and he looked almost like he was bowing. “I thought I mentioned working late!”

“You did,” Victor said, “I’m just impatient.”

“It’s true,” Chris agreed, “he is.”

“Would it help to know that I’m,” Yuuri glanced up and squinted, “approximately 14 minutes away?”

“Tremendously.” Victor struggled to keep a level tone as his pulse picked up the pace. 

Chris, hearing the slight stutter in his voice, eyed him suspiciously. 

“Please, Chris, I know I’m attractive but your staring has truly gotten out of hand,” Victor watched their images in his phone screen.

“But how can I resist?” Chris asked, leaning closer. Victor swore he heard the man sniff.

Jerking around his his seat, Victor met Chris’s eyes. “Must you be like this?”

Victor heard Yuuri giggling as he watched. 

“You smell like blueberries,” Chris whispered.

“I swear to God, I hate you.”

“Mm.” Chris adjusted himself in his seat to throw away another wrapper. “I might come, Victor.”

“I’m never taking you anywhere ever again.”

Yuuri’s face twisted and his glasses slid down his nose. His shoulders shook when he laughed. Chris pointed out that Victor was blushing. Heart caught in his throat, Victor nearly choked. 

“Seems like you’re close to it, too,” Chris muttered just loud enough for Victor to hear.

Victor shot a vicious glare that bounced off of Chris, completely ineffective. 

“Are you excited, Yuuri?” Chris asked over Victor’s shoulder. “All us skaters are.”

“How many does ‘all’ include?” Yuuri adjusted his glasses again. 

“Uh,” Chris flicked his gaze towards the ceiling, “the core group is me, Victor, Mila, Georgi, Yuri, and Yakov. Yakov is a real treat, you’ll love him. Also when he and Yuri are in bad moods at the same time? Good fucking luck there, buddy. We have a few European teams here, though. All of them dote over Victor, so they’ll be around.”

“Ah,” Yuuri nodded and offered a small smile. “I am very excited.”

“That’s great!” Chris said, slapping Victor’s back. “Bet you aren’t as excited as this guy though.”

Victor prayed he didn’t look flustered as flustered as he felt. When he spared a brave look at the camera, he was pleasantly surprised with himself. Aside from being slightly flushed he did look promisingly composed. Yuuri laughed and gnawed on his lip. 

He looked significantly less put together, and Victor’s heart shot through the roof to live amongst the stars. 

“I’m doubting that,” Yuuri said, finally. 

Chris looked doubtfully into the camera. “Don’t doubt it. I’m surprised he hasn’t combusted yet. Anyway! See you in?”

Yuuri glanced upward again. “Five minutes,” he said.

“Five minutes,” Chris confirmed. “See you!”

Nodding, Yuuri flashed a smile and ended the call. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Chris asked as he went back to reclining in his seat. His hands were folded over his stomach and his eyes were closed. “It’s a shame you don’t have a crush on him. You’d make a nice couple. Do you think I’d have a shot?” He spared a peak at Victor through one open eye. 

Victor regarded him impassively. 

“Or would that be a problem?”

Clearing his throat, Victor shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Because you’re friends.”

“Exactly.”

“Uh-huh.” Chris closed both eyes again and a smirk snaked onto his lips. He looked like he knew something Victor didn’t. “I think you might not be telling the whole truth.”

Victor had prepared a retort but when a new swarm of people flooded the lobby, Victor was on his feet fast enough to nearly tip the table. Chris’s eyes snapped open. 

Victor had priorities, and Yuuri was the very first one. He spotted him immediately. It wasn’t hard. He wore a coat that consumed him and a hat pulled down far past his ears. He was feverishly cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt and his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated. Victor found himself smiling more fondly than he had any right to. 

“Yuuri!” 

Yuuri snapped his head upright and floundered to catch his glasses when they slipped from his fingers. When his eyes met Victor’s, a soft smile landed on his lips. 

“Hi,” he breathed more than said. 

“Hi,” Victor was casual until Yuuri took him in a hug and his entire world spun out of control. His eyes widened, his shoulders went rigid, and he was absolutely sure he audibly gasped; Yuuri didn’t seem to notice it. His arms were twined behind Victor’s neck and he radiated warmth. Warmth, more warmth, and a feeling of home.

Perhaps a bit delayed, Victor returned the favor with his hands pressed against’s Yuuri’s lower back. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri said into Victor’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day.” He tried to pull away, and Victor was sure to make it a difficult task. Victor felt Yuuri laugh into his chest, and his heart swelled. “Long day for you too?”

“I’ve spent twelve hours with Chris for company,” Victor sighed, “it’s been the longest.”

“It’s been amazing!” Chris cried, launching himself into their hug and taking them both in his arms. As a result, Victor found himself smashed against Yuuri. His mind could come up with no complaints. “Yuuri, you’re far cuter than phone cameras give you credit for.”

Yuuri’s face turned red enough to emit its own light. He stumbled over words and stuttered every time he decided on something to say.

“I. Thank. Uh. I mean. I’m. You too,” he finally sputtered out.

Chris smiled proudly, and raised an eyebrow at Victor over Yuuri’s head. Victor glared in response. “This truly is a beautiful friendship. Isn’t it, Victor? A nice friendship.”

“Absolutely,” Victor said, ushering them both in the direction of the door. His arm was still resting at the small of Yuuri’s back as they walked. “A wonderful friendship.”

Chris eyed where Victor’s arm was and rolled his eyes. “Wonderful,” he parroted. 

 

The walk back to the hotel was peaceful. Chris skipped ahead, jabbering away on his phone about plans for the next day while Victor talked about anything that came to mind. Yuuri listened with his hands in his pockets. When he saw his reflection in Yuuri’s eyes, he saw a man with the capability to hang stars and wake the moon from sleeping. 

“And then Yuri threatened the lives of every person in the rink, so Yakov called practice over.”

“He sounds like a character,” Yuuri laughed, watching the sky roll past them as he walked. “You sound fond of him, though.”

“He’s fun,” Victor confirmed. “Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”

Yuuri nodded. “I want to say I’m excited to meet him, but I think I’m more scared than anything.”

“He’s more bark than bite, I promise.”

Humming, Yuuri nodded. “You lied to me before, you know.”

Victor’s face twisted in confusion. “When did I do that?”

“When you said he had no friends,” Yuuri said. “They work with you, but they’re real friends. Not just 'work' friends.”

“You think so?” Victor asked, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. Both of them watched as it hopped into the street. 

“I know so.” Yuuri nodded. “They all love you.”

“Who doesn’t?” Victor jabbed Yuuri in the side. 

“Okay, good point.”

Victor saw fireworks behind his eyes. “Glad you agree, but you’re pretty lovable too.”

Yuuri stopped. “I think you might be mistaken.”

Victor came to a halt a few paces ahead. “I think I’m never wrong.”

“I think I’ve proved that to be untrue.”

“Well, I think I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“I think I might take some convincing,” Yuuri said. Eyes cast down, he kept walking. 

Victor looped an arm through his and shoved his own hands into his pants pockets. “I think I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“I think I might not be worth all of that time.” Yuuri’s voice had dropped to a whisper. 

Victor watched Yuuri as they walked. “I think you’re worth so much more,” he finally said.

“ _I_ think the love birds need to stop flirting so blatantly and just skip to the part where they make out,” Chris said, covering the mic of his phone. “It’s far more interesting.”

Yuuri pressed his lips into a line while Victor stared bug-eyed at Chris. Death threats were etched into the lines of his face. Chris snickered. 

“I call it like I see it,” Chris said paired with a shrug before returning to his call. 

“I think no one cares what you think,” Victor snapped back. “Please don’t pay attention to him.” _Please._

Softly, Yuuri laughed and Victor felt all his worry ebb away. 

 

The elevator ride up to their shared room consisted mostly of Chris taking pictures of himself in the mirrored ceiling and Yuuri hiding his face behind Victor’s shoulder. The proximity made his skin prickle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. It was all over in a handful of seconds, and it was hard to dismiss the disappointment Victor felt when Yuuri pulled away to make a bee-line for the door. 

Chris mimicked Victor’s long face. “That’s not how friends look at friends.”

“Maybe it’s how I look at friends.”

“Like you want to take them to bed?” Chris asked, lingering back when Yuuri wandered into the hallways. “I’ve never caught you looking at me like that.”

“Who said we were friends?”

“Ice cold, Victor,” Chris laughed, “Ice cold.”

 

Chris slung their front door open and it crashed against the wall loud enough to make all three of them flinch. 

“ _Georgi!_ ” Chris called in the hallway, clutching a pillow and short pajama pants. “ _Are you ready to spend a night with me?_ ”

“ _I said no!_ ” A distraught Georgi screamed from a few doors down. Across the hall, Mila’s sharp laughter mingled with Yuri shouting for everyone to just go to bed already. 

“That’s my cue,” Chris said, ducking out of the room with a wink. The door clicked softly behind him, and Victor and Yuuri were left alone. 

There was a beat of silence where both men stared at the door until their eyes gravitated towards one another.

“Tonight is promising to be an interesting night,” Victor said finally.

Yuuri nodded in slow motion. “Poor Georgi.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Victor waved away the concern, “he just likes to play hard to get.”

Yuuri snorted and Victor laughed in response. 

“So I’ve been thinking about what we should do tonight,” Victor said.

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded.

“And I think we should start with braiding each other’s hair. Then you can tell me about your crush and I’ll tell you about mine. Then we can paint each other’s nails and watch Desperate Housewives until morning. I think it’s the most accurate depiction of American living.”

Yuuri seemed to be wearing a permanent smile. “Having lived there for five years, I have to say that you aren’t wrong.”

“Tell me about it.”

“About?”

“Your time in America. What you did. What you saw. The friends you made. Who’s my competition?” Victor reached out to shove Yuuri’s shoulder. His hand rested there just a second too long to be completely casual. Yuuri leaned into it, though.

“That might take a while.”

“I told you you’re worth my time. _All_ of it, I think I said.”

Victor wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed like Yuuri might have been blushing. 

“Okay then,” he said before taking a deep breath and diving into his past. 

 

By the time the clock struck three, both men were fast asleep. Though they’d began with distance between them, Victor eventually found himself tangled around Yuuri in the middle of the floor. Yuuri slept with his face buried in Victor’s chest while Victor dozed with his chin propped in Yuuri’s hair. The Desperate Housewives of Atlanta shouted in the background while bottles of nail polish from Victor’s teenage years dried in the open air. Their caps had rolled under Victor’s bed long gone and forgotten about. 

Victor drifted in and out of consciousness every time Yuuri moved. Once it was the throw an arm across Victor’s torso and another time it was to pull him closer and collect his body heat. Each one had Victor’s heart swelling and his mind racing until sleeping became a chore.

It had been a long time since the waking world had help much appeal at all for Victor, but Yuuri clinging to him in the dead of night was definitely enough to make holding off sleep worth it.

Rationally, Victor knew that Yuuri was asleep and had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He had no idea that he was making Victor’s heart hammer against his chest or that he was spiking his blood temperature up a few hundred degrees. He had no idea how many butterflies he was unleashing in Victor’s stomach or that he was the star of Victor’s every thought, both waking and not.

Suddenly, it was alarmingly clear that Chris had been right from the very start. It was hard to believe there'd been any doubt to begin with. 

Victor had a crush. He had a crush big enough to swim in, and presently it was deep enough to make him drown. 

"What am I supposed to do now?" Victor whispered against Yuuri's scalp. "I think I like you too much, you know."

Yuuri rustled, but showed no other signs of being awake. 

The night was shaping up to be far more interesting than Victor had banked on.

Victor found it easy to admit defeat and allow this wave of newfound affection to swallow him whole. Blindly, Victor reached for his phone and once he'd found it, he was careful not to give himself any time to rethink his message. 

 

**Victor:** So you think it might be mutual? 

 

Chris only took a few seconds to respond. Victor was almost sure he heard cheering down the hall. 

 

**Chris:** buddy... pal... i'm already planning the wedding

 

**Chris:** Georgi wants to be the flower man

 

**Chris:** can dogs be ring bearers?

 

**Victor:** So that's a yes?

 

**Chris:** it's a good thing you make a living off being pretty bc you sure as hell aren't the next sherlock holmes

 

**Chris:** yes.

 

A handful of surreal, musical minutes passed before Chris sent another message. 

 

**Chris:** so how do you feel about a winter wedding?

 

**Victor:** Goodnight, Chris.

 

**Chris:** haha! too busy for me i see. I'll take that as a maybe.

 

**Chris:** don't worry. me and georgi can handle the planning.

 

**Chris:** gn ;)

 

Victor was indescribably tired. The skin beneath his eyes was a sickly shade of purple and his head swam with exhaustion after having not slept for two nights in a row. It wasn't difficult to convince himself to slide his phone far away and put an end to that distraction. Instead, he focused on the way Yuuri's body curled into his like it was always meant to be there. Gently, Victor slid Yuuri's glasses off and slid them close to where his phone lay discarded.

Yuuri was beautiful at all times, that was no secret, but in that moment he was absolutely radiant. Victor had a hard time not getting lost in it.

He watched the other man sleep until his eyes grew heavy and sleep pulled him away with little fuss or fight.

For once, reality was far superior to his dreams, and so he dreamed of nothing at all. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tries really hard to gracefully handle his crush.  
> It's too bad he only knows grace when he's putting on a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thank you guys for coming back for more I hope you enjoy it!  
> Feel free to talk to me any time :')

Victor awoke sprawled out on the floor, and, initially, he was incredibly confused. There was a flaring pain in his lower back which was the result of a bad mix of old bones and hard flooring. The design of the ugly carpet was pressed into his cheek; he caught a peak at his reflection as he pushed himself into a seated position.

Somewhere above him, someone was laughing. His hazy, sleepy brain had a hard time giving a face to the sound, but when his eyes landed on a sleep-rumpled Yuuri perched in Chris’s bed, reality clicked back together pretty quickly. 

Chris was standing in front of his wardrobe, talking animatedly about how much he loved the people he’d met during their stay. He praised the food, the atmosphere, and the weather all while Yuuri nodded along politely. Thirteen identical shirts, with the exception of color, were strewn around Yuuri were he sat on his folded legs. A disposable coffee cup was held between delicate fingertips as if it were made of fine China. 

“Good morning, Victor,” Chris said without turning around. “You’re particularly noisy this morning.”

Victor grunted, and forced himself onto his feet with a little extra assistance from his own bed. “Turns out sleeping on the floor is a lot harder on the joints when you're going on 30.”

“Must be tough getting old.”

“I’m not old,” Victor said without conviction.

Chris hummed, tossing another shirt onto the bed. Yuuri watched it fall but made no moves to peel it off his lap. 

This was an every-morning-routine for Chris. He tore his closet apart in search of practice clothes the gave him the most “sexual-prowess” as he referred to it, and always settled for the same pair of grey sweats and a sweatshirt that was so well worn the neck hole could be worn as an over-the-shoulder fashion statement. 

Unsurprisingly, this morning was no different. After a five minute deliberation period, he began hanging the shirts back and grabbed for the sweatshirt at the foot of his bed. Yuuri averted his gaze when Chris stripped of his sleeping shirt.

The innocence was precious; it was a shame that Chris existed to crush that sort of thing. 

“Did you sleep well, Yuuri?” Victor asked as he locked his arms behind his head and tried to stretch his aching spine into something that resembled a reasonably straight line. It didn’t work, and he huffed when his arms fell heavy back at his sides. 

“Fine,” Yuuri smiled, “I assume you don’t feel the same though.”

Victor had existed between short moments of sleep the entire night. Mostly, he’d been too wrapped up in Yuuri to relax. It would have been downright shameful if Victor had any shame to spare. “I slept great, actually,” Victor dropped onto the bed by Yuuri’s side, “my back just doesn’t realize it.”

“Ah,” Yuuri said with a smile pulling at his lips. “That’s unfortunate. When I was younger, I always wanted to sleep in my sister’s room. She refused to share a bed, so the floor and I became quick friends.” He spun the coffee cup between his hands. “It’s a lot easier to get up the next morning when you’re ten,” he agreed. 

Victor beamed and bumped shoulders with Yuuri. “I sincerely don’t remember the last time I slept anywhere even close to the ground.”

“Probably because you never did,” Chris interjected, shamelessly discarding the towel around his waist. “He was privileged.” Chris glanced over his shoulder to get a look at Yuuri, but he was too busy studying the bedsheets. His cheeks were stained pink. 

“He was still a kid though,” Yuuri said and his voice was soft. “Kids like those sort of things, don’t they? The triplets do.”

“Triplets?” Chris asked, leaning over a different dresser with the goal of finding underwear. He moved out of Yuuri’s line of sight, and Yuuri finally breathed. “You have kids?”

“No, no, no!” Yuuri waved his hands in the air frantically and almost spun around the face Chris until he remembered his state of undress. “They aren’t mine. I babysit. For a friend. Yuko. She’s the friend.”

Laughing, Chris slammed the dresser drawer closed and returned to his wardrobe looking slightly more presentable. “That would be an amazing job. Can you see it Victor? Me babysitting?”

Victor hummed. “I see a lot of destruction and angry parents.”

“That’s what us cool people call fun,” Chris said.

“I see.” Victor nodded. “If this group of Cool People made up entirely of teenagers?” Victor questioned while leaning back enough to prop himself against Yuuri. Yuuri studied him for a brief moment before turning his gaze back on Chris who chuckled while nodding.

“Yuri is our President.”

Yuuri’s mouth slanted into a frown and his head tilted. Chris noticed the sudden change and gasped. “Oh,” he said as laughter bubbled up towards the surface again. “Oh no, that’s going to be quite confusing isn’t it?” He took a moment to think. “How mad do you think Yuri would be if I started calling him Yurio?”

Victor stared down the ceiling, eyes squinted in mock concentration. “Mm. If I had to guess, I’d say very.”

“Perfect,” Chris said while shimmying into his sweats and bounding into the hallway, presumably on the way to Yuri’s front door.

Victor leaned down to whisper just loud enough for Yuuri to hear. “Chris never learned to value his life, and now Yuri is going to end it.”

Yuuri snorted and turned his face to meet Victor’s eyes. They were nose to nose and neither of them took a chance on breathing. 

The slamming of a door and wild screaming trailing down the hallway broke them apart. Victor was on his feet and out the door in an instant while Yuuri scrambled and tried desperately not to spill his drink.

Victor held the door open wide enough to let Yuuri stand by his side and watch as Yuri knocked Chris to the ground and beat him savagely with a bedroom slipper.

“You’ll attend his funeral, right?” Victor asked, solemn. 

Yuuri had a much harder time keeping a straight face. “Of course.”

 

Mila and Georgie took 3 seconds to become completely accustomed to Yuuri’s company. With an arm slung over both of his shoulders, they walked with Yuuri sandwiched between them. They filled the entire width of the sidewalk as they made their way to the practice rink, and there wasn’t a single passerby who was happy about that.

Chris walked in large skipping steps with an arm thrown around Victor’s neck, and the twisting motions were doing Victor’s back no favors, but he kept up the pace. The imprint of the bedroom shoe was still clear on his cheek, but otherwise he’d escaped unharmed. Yuri promised that there was more where that came from; Chris had never looked less scared. When Victor wasn’t studying the angry red mark on Chris’s face, he was watching Yuuri’s back as he, Mila, and Georgie forged a path meant only for themselves. 

Mila informed Yuuri about her crush on an Italian skater who she absolutely had a shot with next time they ran into one another. Yuuri expressed that he was happy for her, and he never stopped nodding encouragement for her to continue in her rambling. When she would stop for breath, Georgie would fill the silence. Victor lost count of the times he uttered his ex’s name, but Yuuri never lost that sincerely sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“I can see why you’re so head over heels,” Chris said, eyes also falling on Yuuri and no one else.

Victor smiled fondly. “I’ve never met anyone more beautiful.”

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Chris said, moving Victor closer to the street’s edge.

“You’re a close second!” Victor laughed, forcing them back towards the center of the sidewalk. “I’m not wrong.”

“Usually, I would say you’re wrong. But,” Chris sighed over his own defeat, “I can let you have this one. No one can compete with that.” Chris threw a hand up to motion to Yuuri who was none the wiser. As if on cue, Yuuri giggled at something Mila said, and both Chris and Victor allowed their jaws to drop. “Incredible,” Chris shook his head. 

“Truly,” Victor whispered.

 

Their group arrived at the rink well before Yakov or the other European skaters. Yuuri managed to move from between his news friends and found a spot at Victor’s side. Victor could have been lying to himself, but he was almost sure he saw Yuuri’s shoulders relax in the proximity. Confidence overwhelmed him, and his chest stuck out just a little too far.

An old junker of a car puttered into the lot with an equally old man at the wheel while a blonde teen sat by his side, feet in the windshield. 

With sunglasses sliding down his nose and bubble gum inflated between his lips, Yuri climbed out of Yakov’s car and paid no mind to anyone in their group aside from Chris who caught a nasty glare. 

“Yurio is feeling a little catty,” Chris grumbled.

Mila snorted, being the first one to pick up on the nickname. “Is that what we’re calling him now?” Her smile pulled back into something terrifying. 

“Catchy right?”

“So catchy,” she said as she nudged Yuri in the side. “Eh, Yurio?”

“I will kill every single one of you,” Yuri growled with double middle fingers thrown in their direction. 

“No death threats on the clock,” Yakov muttered past a cigarette, though Victor sincerely doubted his heart would ache if Yuri really did murder them all. 

Victor and Chris were the first on the ice, both of them eager to outshine the other while Yuuri leaned against the rink wall to watch. Every skater coming in greeted him with warmth and Yuuri would smile and wave back kindly. Watching the exchanges made Victor’s heart swell. How could he possibly function properly when his insides were constantly threatening to float away?

Everything Yuuri did felt like a blessing.

Victor was well and truly done for. 

 

Victor found that it was impossible to skate a straight line with Yuuri watching him with such intensity. His knees felt wobbly and his edge work was lazy at best. His jumps were lack luster, his footwork was slow in comparison to everyone there. With his brain mixed in with the clouds, focus was hard to come by. Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose when Victor took a particularly hard spill. 

“Vitya,” Yakov called him over. This was becoming a routine. Victor stepped carefully off the ice and rounded the wall. Thankfully, Chris had captured Yuuri’s attention by having him call out jumps to see if Chris could complete them. Victor watched them while Yakov waited, foot tapping and teeth grating. 

“I do love these chats,” Victor said, finally turning his attention on Yakov.

“Im glad one of us does. Honestly, Victor, the less time I have to spend with you the happier we both will be.”

“One of these days you’ll miss me,” Victor said, falling into an open seat and watched while his coach followed suit. 

“I don’t see that day coming for a long, long time.” Yakov’s voice was heavy and muffled with his scarf rising to cover his mouth. 

Victor hummed, eyes grazing over the ice. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and it was clear that they’d all improved since the day they landed. 

Meanwhile, Victor had only gotten worse. 

Brick by brick, a heavy weight was pressing down on him. It threatened to crush him every time Yakov gave him that same disappointed look or he couldn’t complete a set he choreographed himself. Expectations were everywhere. He was meeting none of them.

“If I said I was still jet lagged would you believe me?” Victor asked and earned a scowl in return. 

“You only have a month left here,” Yakov said, “I would like to advise you to make the most of it.”

“I’ve been trying to,” Victor replied evenly. He watched as Chris ate ice and Yuuri nearly hurdled the wall to ensure that he was okay. 

When Victor sneaked a glance at Yakov, he was also watching Yuuri. 

“Try harder,” he finally said, grunting when he pushed himself onto his feet. “Work on the latter half of your free skate when you come to your senses.” It sounded like a warning, but Victor barely heard him. 

“Of course I will.” Victor took his cue to leave and bounded for the ice, spraying slush in his wake as he made way for where Chris and Yuuri chatted. 

Yuuri greeted him with a massive wave and an onslaught of encouraging words, and Victor had a hard time breathing. The weight on his shoulders was so far gone that Victor hardly remembered it being there at all. 

 

The skaters dispersed early that afternoon. It was rare that they could leave while the sun was still at a high point in the sky, but Yakov seemed too distracted to care. 

Victor was the first off the ice, and he walked gingerly across carpeted floors to collect his things. Yuri was right behind him. “Old man,” he prompted.

Victor hated himself for being the first, and only, person to respond to the title. 

“Why are you walking like that?” Yuri squinted at him, jaw squeezed tightly shut. 

In truth, the combination of sleeping on the floor and partaking in his fair share of falls had done a number on him, but he didn’t get a chance to say that. Yuri’s focus had already moved away from him and had fallen on Yuuri who wore Victor’s favorite shirt and hair styled by a night of restless sleep.

The noise of disgust in Yuri’s throat gave away the conclusion he’d just jumped too.

“Oh my God, you’re disgusting. Nevermind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” he said as he shoved past. Victor nearly toppled over for the umpteenth time that day and his startled yelp caught the attention of Yuuri. Wide, curious doe eyes did him in. Victor felt his knees go out before he could find anything to grab onto, and for the second time that day he found himself lying in the floor. 

A small group of people came to his rescue, hiking Victor back onto his feet and brushing him off until he was stable on his own. Victor laughed off any concern and was relieved when they all turned to talk to Yuuri, offering friendly goodbyes and see you soons as they made their way out the door. 

Victor was sat down with his bag wide open at his feet. He’d taken a solid five minutes to unlace one boot, too caught up in watching Yuuri to focus. Yuuri was doing nothing spectacular, he had toed his way to the edge of the ice and just stared, captivated by nothing at all. Victor considered that maybe he was watching the way sunlight danced off loosened ice crystals where it poured in from the skylights, or perhaps he was missing home and the Ice Castle. Neither of those felt right, though. 

“You can get out there if you want to,” Victor said. His voice boomed off the naked walls and made Yuuri jump in surprise. “Skating is what it’s meant for, after all.”

“No, no,” Yuuri said, stepping away from the ice and finding a place to sit by Victor’s side. “No, that’s alright.”

Victor nodded, and gave up on stripping himself of his skates. He leaned back and looked out over the rink. The quiet between them was thick but comfortable. 

“Did you always want to work at the Ice Castle?” Victor asked.

Yuuri laughed through his nose at the thought. “No,” he said. “It’s not bad though! It’s not. I don’t mind it. It’s just-“ he shrugged. 

Victor nodded. “What did you want to do?”

Yuuri spared a quick look in Victor’s direction and then his gaze hit the floor. His cheeks reddened and the tips of his ears where close behind. Soon enough there was color dripping down his neck and below the v-neck of his borrowed shirt. “I wanted to be like you,” he said finally. It was barely a whisper, but Victor heard him clearly. 

Victor’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he sincerely hoped Yuuri couldn’t hear it. “You wanted to skate.”

“Competitively, yes.” He wasn’t looking away from the floor. 

“What happened?” Victor asked. He wanted so badly to reach out and take Yuuri’s hand but there was a blurred line between what it meant to comfort a friend versus comforting a lover. It was a line he wasn’t entirely sure that Yuuri wanted to cross, so he sat on his hands and hoped it didn’t seem strange. 

“I…” Yuuri trailed off and shook his head. When his voice found him again it was unbearably sad. “I wasn’t you.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Victor said, nails digging into the bench they sat on. 

Yuuri nodded, slow and deliberate. “That’s because it is,” his shoulders rose and fell in a silent almost-laugh. “I kept messing up. I got nervous. I flubbed competitions. I got so wound up in what other people thought of me that I realized I could never be someone like you. It was a hard pill to swallow and it made practicing that much harder. I idolized and worshipped you for so long. I wanted to be just like you for so long, that I forgot you were just a person too. In my mind, you were untouchable. Perfect. And I tried to be that too, but I couldn’t. I was so preoccupied on being you that I forgot to improve myself. I never got better, and eventually skating made me so anxious and so depressed that I couldn’t do it anymore. I was a laughing stock to myself and everyone who had watched me struggle.” He finally chanced a look at Victor and tears dotted his glasses. “And now I’m probably a laughing stock to you, too.”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, yanking his hands out from beneath him and taking Yuuri in a tight hug. “Yuuri, I don’t think you realize how similar we are.” Victor buried his neck in Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri, though startled, folded Victor into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri laughed but it was shaky. “You didn’t do anything worth apologizing over,” he whispered into Victor’s neck. His thumbs ran soothing circles against Victor’s shoulder blades. 

Victor chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Skate with me,” he mumbled against Yuuri’s skin. The shoulder of his shirt had fallen, and Victor wasn’t above enjoying it. 

Silence was the only answer Victor got, but it wasn’t a no, so he pressed on. “Just five minutes,” Victor’s voice was velvet. “Yakov requested that I work on my free skate. Now is the perfect opportunity.”

Yuuri was holding his breath and biting his tongue to keep the word “yes” off his lips. “You don’t even have to skate,” Victor said. “Just stand and observe. As someone who has skated you can point out technical issues, no?”

Yuuri pulled back with defeat in his eyes. “I don’t have skates,” he pointed out as if that would win him the argument.

Victor was lightening fast in removing his own skates and thrusting them in Yuuri’s direction. “Borrow mine.”

“I- what? No. I can’t. I can’t do that,” Yuuri stammered while pushing the skates back towards Victor’s chest.

“Because you physically can’t fit them or because…”

“Just because.” Yuuri’s argument was steadily slipping further and further down the tubes. 

Victor pushed them right back out towards Yuuri. “Poor execution but solid reasoning,” Victor said. He had already decided on putting them onto Yuuri himself if they arguments persisted. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“And I applaud the effort,” Victor nodded while Yuuri reached out for the skates. They were well worn, scuffed, scraped, and beaten, but Yuuri still held them with reverence. Victor wore a lopsided smile when he pushed off the bench and headed towards the lockers. “I know where Chris keeps a back up pair,” he said to explain his leaving, “I’ll be back.”

 

In skates and guards, Yuuri stood eye to eye with Victor. Victor glanced down and back up again to meet Yuuri’s hesitant gaze. 

“Gold looks nice on you,” he said absently, sitting down to put skates on himself.

Impossibly, Yuuri’s cheeks flushed a more passionate color of red. “Thanks,” he muttered into the hand covering his mouth.

Victor flashed an award winning smile and held his hand up for Yuuri to take. Yuuri dutifully pulled Victor onto his feet and kept a hold on his fingers until he stood at the edge of the rink. “Chris might be better at this,” Yuuri persisted. 

“He would like to believe that,” Victor said, stepping onto the ice while using their linked fingers to guide Yuuri along. “Stand closer to the middle of the rink, please.”

Yuuri did as he was told. He was far more graceful when he wasn’t tripping over three six year olds.

Victor started with simple jumps he knew he could conquer even with being off his a-game. His Lutz was acceptable, and his Toe Loop fell into the same category of good enough. They lacked flare, but Yuuri still seemed enamored by them. He was captivated just the same. 

No expectations came from Yuuri, he only radiated support and passion. Victor suddenly wanted to go in for a hug, a kiss, anything to show his gratitude for Yuuri just being himself. But, he was absolutely sure that those things didn’t just cross the friendship boundary; they vaulted right over it for show points. 

“You haven’t corrected anything,” Victor said.

“There’s nothing to correct.” Yuuri came to his own defense. 

“Maybe you need a closer look, then.”

“I don’t think it gets much closer than this,” Yuuri said but didn’t stop Victor when he grabbed him by the wrists and spun him in a wide circle. “I assume you do this with all the judges.”

“Absolutely,” Victor said, a sudden burst of bravery had him sliding his hand to the small of Yuuri’s back. They slid along the ice leisurely. Victor looked at Yuuri while Yuuri stared at his own feet. “It’s only professional to be as thorough as possible.”

Yuuri hummed and nodded, eyes narrowed as if he were taking mental notes. Victor twined his fingers with Yuuri’s and spun him outwards. His hair flew wildly, whipping him in the face, and his laughter filled the entire building. It filled all the little empty spaces and crevices in Victor’s chest and mind. 

Victor reeled him back in, and they stood flush against one another. Yuuri’s face was painted pink. Whether that was the result of exertion, nerves, or the left over remnants of his earlier cry was a mystery. 

They danced around the rink in a clumsy fashion, skates tangling together, laces coming untied, and bodies bumping into one another due to lack of coordination. “Think it’s too late to change my short program?”

“To this?” Yuuri asked, breathless and bearing an overwhelming grin. “It’s terrible.”

“It has heart,” Victor argued.

Yuuri laughed with his forehead pressed against Victor’s chest. Suddenly, his heartbeat was in his throat. He felt Yuuri tighten his grip on Victor’s hand before it was his turn to be shot across the rink. Taking a different approach, Yuuri let go of Victor and sent Victor hurtling towards the adjacent railing.

“Rude!” Victor cried. It was no issue to redirect himself and race in Yuuri’s direction. He was a bullet, and Yuuri screeched, legs scrambling for escape.

Their game lasted mere minutes before Victor was able to loop and arm around Yuuri’s waist. When Victor managed to pull him back in they were both panting and breathless. With legs burning and chest heaving, Victor propped his chin on Yuuri’s head and desperately tried to catch his breath. His dignity stayed intact when he realized Yuuri was in the same near-death state. 

Yuuri’s arms were wrapped lazily around Victor’s waste while Victor kept his arms resting on Yuuri’s shoulders. They glided in wobbly lines. Metal on ice and soft breathing filled the otherwise empty rink. The tinkling sound of Yuuri’s laughter melded in with them.

“What?” Victor asked past a smirk.

“I was just thinking, and you should try to change your short program.”

“It’s a winner, right?”

Yuuri shook his head, hair falling over his eyes. “I’m not sure about that, but you were right about it having a lot of heart.”

Victor hummed and squeezed Yuuri just a little closer. His fingers itched to card themselves through Yuuri’s hair, and without being able to sit on his hands Victor felt his impulse control slipping. 

Victor was the first to separate them, and he was on a mission to escape the ice. Yuuri watched him curiously. 

“It’s time for lunch, don’t you think?” Victor busied himself with untying his laces.

“Oh,” Yuuri nodded, stepping off the ice. He kept a respectable distance between them when he sat and pulled off Victor’s skates. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Great,” Victor shot off in the direction of the lockers and hastily slung his borrowed skates back where he found them before rushing into the bathroom to get a good look at himself.

He looked fully disheveled, flushed, and Victor could very clearly see the hearts in his eyes. He sighed. Heavily.

If there had ever been a bad time to come to terms with a crush, now was it. He could see himself ruining their friendship over his impulses and the thought alone was crippling. 

“Victor?” Yuuri called in the distance. “Are you okay?”

Footsteps were making a beeline for him.

_Debatable_ , Victor’s mind screamed. “I’m wonderful!” His mouth translated as he dramatically kicked the bathroom door open and took Yuuri by the arm, leading him to the door.

 

With linked arms, Yuuri took the lead and directed Victor around the city while Victor settled for watching him in silent reverence

Yuuri had admitted to worshipping Victor, and Victor had to wonder how he would react if he knew that it was becoming a mutual thing between them. 

He wasn’t lying when he’s confessed that they were more similar than Yuuri could have ever possibly imagined. 

Yuuri derailed his train of thought when he caught Victor’s attention. He smiled when their eyes met and Victor did well not to stumble over his own feet. Staring into the sun was far less dangerous than this. 

Victor took a steadying breath and attempted, in vain, to prepare himself for the night. They had many hours ahead of them and the feeling of free falling wasn’t relenting. 

It was an intoxicating high.

Allowing himself another bold move, Victor unhooked his elbow from Yuuri’s and grabbed his wrist instead. 

“I don’t want to get lost,” he rationalized when Yuuri raised a questioning eyebrow. “That would be a tragic way to spend the night.”

“Of course,” Yuuri said. He licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek to trap a smile.

Victor died a small death.

Yuuri, oblivious to the effects he had, continued forward. 

Suddenly, a long night didn’t seem quite so daunting. 

**Author's Note:**

> yurikatisuki.tumblr.com


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